


• 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

6%ap, V: swj^titr.___ 



UNITED STiTES OF AMERICA. 









Cooking and Castle-Building. 



BY 



EMMA P. EWING. 



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BOSTON: 
JAMES K. OSGOOD AND COMPANY. 

1880. 



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£?.-■ 



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Copyright, 1880, 
By JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY. 

All rights reserved. 



Stereotyped bt 

HEYMER & AMORY, 

Boston. 



Printed by Wright <fc Potter Printixg Compant, 18 Post Office Sq., Boston. 



PEEFACE AND DEDICATION. 



To GRACE GREEKWOOD : 

My Dear Friend, — To you who so nearly fill my ideal of 
a true American woman, I would like to inscribe this little 
volume; Lut as it is more especially w^ritten for younger 
women than you and I, the proper thing, I presume, is to ask 
you to permit me to dedicate it to your artlessly charming 
daughter. 

I know right well you will cheerfully grant the request. 
But before doing so, I fancy you quizzically inquiring, and 
myself gravely informing you, about the nature of the volume, 
somewhat in this wise : — 

" Is the book a novel ? " 

" A little like a novel." 

" Or, is it a cook-book ? " 

" A good deal like a cook-book ? " 

" Or, a volume of sermons ? " 

" Very like a volume of sermons." 

" Ah, well ! then it must be a good book." 

" O yes ! a remarkably good book." 

Therefore, in the hope that she will find pleasure in its 
perusal, 

"COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING" 

IS 

Bttrtcattti 

To ANKIE LIPPIKCOTT. 

No woman of her age, I am very confident, can read it with- 
out profit. And no housewife, I flatter myself, can carefully 
follow its directions and advice without doing something to 
aid on the cause so dear to your and my heart, by haviug her 
table supplied with well-prepared food ; and thus helping to 
secure for herself, her family, and her friends, that most 
desirable of earthly attainments — a pleasant home. 

[3] 



00]S[ TEK"TS 



CHAPTER I. 

HOW IT HAPPENED. 

In New York. — Plans and Projects Ventilated. — Cooks and 
Cook-books Discussed. — Where shall wo Spend the Summer ? 
— The Question Settled. — Off to Maplewood, . . 9 

CHAPTER II. 

HOW WE MADE BREAD. 

Alice Makes Yeast. — The Way She Made it. — About 
Yeast. — Setting the Ferment. — Preparing the Sponge. — 
Working the Dough. — Letting it Rise. — Miss Beecher on 
Bread. — Making the Loaves. — Baking Bread. — French 
Twist. -- Care of Bread, . 16 

CHAPTER III. 

STILL DABBLING IN DOUGH. 

Graham Bread. — Rolls. — Egg Rolls. — Bread without Po- 
tato. — When to Set Ferment. — Soda Denounced. — Cream 
Biscuit. — Strawberry Shortcake. — Maryland Biscuit. — 
Alice as Cook. — Her First Breakfast. — What She Pre- 
pared, and How She Prepared it, 31 

CHAPTER IV. 

FOOD AND FANCY. 

Fried Chicken. — Graham Gems. — English Muffins. — Gra- 
ham Cakes. — Mushes. — Directions for Cooking them. — Oat- 
meal. — Crushed and Cracked Wheat. — Hominy or Grits. — 
Stewed Chicken. — Stewed Meats. — Alice's Adventure. — 

Alice's Dream. — Gerald Douglas, 49 

[5] 



b CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER V. 

GRIDDLE-CAKES AND OTHER THINGS. 

At Breakfast. — Cliat about Cakes, Griddles, and Greasers. 

— Bread Cakes. — Waffles. — Flannel Cakes. — Muffins. — 
Buckwheat Cakes. — Corn Bread. — Dodgers. — Muffins. — 
Slappers. — Something about Ghosts, .... 66 

CHAPTER VI. 

BREAKFAST-TABLE GOSSIP. 

Coffee. — How to Roast Coffee. — How to Make Coffee. — 
A Bachelor's Letter. — English Breakfast Tea. — Black and 
Green Teas. — Mandarin Tea. — How to Make Toast. — Fan- 
ny's Letter. — Pease. — Asparagus. — Green Beans. — Dried 
Beans. — Pork and Beans. — Stewed Corn. — Corn Oysters. — 
About Potatoes, 83 

CHAPTER VII. 

AT DINNER. 

A Dissertation on Soup. — About Roasting Meats. — Searing 
Meats. — Dry Roasting. — How to Sear and Roast Meat. — 
Boiled Meats and Fowls. — Salt Meats. — To Boil Ham. — 
Beets, Onions, Cabbage, and other Vegetables. — Suitability 
of Food. — Things that Eat Well Together. — Rice Pudding. 

— Butter. — Boiled Rice. — Steamed Rice. — A Visit to Mrs. 
Douglas's Rooms. — Susannah's Story. — Family Portraits. 

— Mysteries, 104 

CHAPTER VIII. 

OMELET AND DAINTY DISHES. 

Chicken. — Beefsteak. — Lamb Chops. — Mutton Chops. — 
Broiling without a Gridiron. — How to Broil. — Broiled Quail. 

— Canvas-back Ducks. — Terrapin. — Mrs. Rose's Omelet. — 
Her Trials and Failures. — Her Final Success. — How the 
Omelet was Made. — Chicken Salad. — Salad Dressing. — 
Frizzled Beef. — Mrs. Douglas's Letter. — Emeline An- 
noyed, 123 



CONTENTS. 7 

CHAPTER IX. 

IN THE ORCHARD. 

Moralizing. — The Prince of Fruits. — Cooked Apples. — 
Sugar and Spice. — The Flavor of Fruits. — Canned Fruits. 

— Fruit Mushes. — Jams and Jellies. — Apple Pie. — Cousiu 
Kate V. Parson Beecher. — Cambric Tea. — Linen Pie. — 
Baked Apples. — Stewed Apples. — Tapioca Pudding. — 
Fruit at Meals. — Sugaring Berries. — On the Veranda. 

— Gerald's Musings, 140 

CHAPTER X. 

EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 

Egg-Plant. — Fried Squash. — Fried Oysters. — Scalloped Oys- 
ters. — Fish-Balis. — Hashes. — Scrapple. — A Stew. — Per- 
sonal Matters. — Cousin Kate's School Project. — Boarding- 
Houses. — Homes. — The Professor's Story. — Beds and 
Blankets. — House- work. — Drudgery.— "A Shy" at Re- 
formers. — The Reform Most Needed. — Proper Home-Train- 
ing of Girls, 1C5 

CHAPTER XI. 

LITTLE THINGS. 

About Cake. — Bread Cake. — Buns. — Doughnuts. — Pickled 
Cabbage. — Tomato Sauce. — Cucumber Catsup. — Cucumber 
Pickle. — Spiced Peaches. — Spiced Damsons. — On the Ver- 
anda after Tea. — An Interchange of Thoughts. — Cousin 
Kate on Little Things. — Good-by to Maplewood, . . 190 



COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 



CHAPTER I. 

HOW IT HAPPENED. 



My cousin Emeline, after a two years' sojourn 
in Europe with her only child, Alice, had returned, 
and was loitering in New York, undecided as to 
where they should spend the summer. 

Abroad, Alice had devoted herself assiduously 
to French, German, and music, while her mother 
had employed much of her time in writing a 
novel. 

One day in early June, a fortnight after their 
arrival in the American metropolis, Emeline, 
looking up from the book she had been reading, 
exclaimed,— 

" ' O for a lodge in some vast wilderness ! ' 
Another week of this horrible din and confusion 
will be the death of me. Day and night it is one 
unceasing uproar. Kate, where can we hide our- 
selves for three months and enjoy uninterrupted 
rest, while I revise that book of mine?" 

I answered her by asking, "Would you mind 
going to Westfield ? " 



10 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

" I feel just now as if I would not mind going 
to the ends of the earth, if necessary, in search of 
undisturbed quiet. But why go to Westfield?" 

" Because my friend Jennie Douglas has a beauti- 
ful place there, which has been shut up for a year, 
and will so remain for a year longer. The place 
is left in care of the gardener ; but I have leave 
to go there when I will, and stay as long as I see 
fit, — why not bury ourselves there? AYe might 
bribe the gardener and his wife to keep our pres- 
ence a secret as much as possible." 

"The very thing," responded Emeline. "Let 
us start to-morrow. But where shall ^XG get our 
rations while there, and who will cook them for 
us? If we install a retinue of servants in the 
house, w^e may as w^ell abandon all thought of 
rest or comfort." 

"I have a plan," I said, after a moment's reflec- 
tion, " which will help me carry out a pet project 
of my own, and at the same time enable us to 
dispense with servants." 

" My adorable Kate ! proceed, divulge, explain. 
I am all eagerness to know what pet project of 
yours can be subserved by our burying ourselves 
for three months in some out of the way place. I 
fail to see how that will do aw^ay with the evils of 
intemperance, or give the sufirage to woman." 

" Emeline, in my wandering to and fro upon 
the earth, I have been in a great many houses, 



HOW IT HAPPENED. 11 

and have eaten of the labors of a great many 
cooks. But the houses that deserved to be called 
homes, wherein genuine comfort and cheerful hap- 
piness dwelt peacefully together, — I could count 
them all on my ten fingers. In searching for the 
cause of this great lack, I cannot attribute it 
entirely to the tyranny of man, or the servitude 
of woman. I am forced to the conclusion that 
women fail to appreciate the importance of the 
Home. That in their just rebellion against lives 
of drudgery and toil, they fail to see how much 
of this drudgery is self-imposed, and what a grand 
work each woman might do in her circumscribed 
sphere if she could make the home attractive and 
desirable above other places, to husband, sons, 
and brothers. I have an idea that if the women 
who are wives and mothers would bring all their 
powers to bear in the right direction — making it 
their first object to see that the home is comfort- 
able and attractive, — a place where the husband 
can rest, and the sons find pleasure, — that these 
wives and mothers would constitute the most 
efiective temperance crusaders ; that the labors 
of the women who go forth to pray with and con- 
vert the rumseller, would, in comparison with 
their labors, count as nothing." 

" Kate, I protest against being forced to listen 
to your lecture on moral reform. Come to the 
point. What is your pet project? " 



12 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

"Why, this: you see, Cousm Emeline, no 
home can be what it ought to be, unless there is 
a good cook in the establishment. A great many 
of the sins of the world are traceable to bad food. 
A carnal stomach has often more to do with crime 
than a carnal heart. A popular writer says, 'you 
may make houses enchantingly beautiful, hang 
them with pictures, have them clean, airy, and 
convenient ; but if the stomach is fed with sour 
bread and burnt meats, it will raise such rebellion 
that the eyes will see no beauty an3^where.' In- 
deed, I cannot conceive of a man being a Christian 
husband or father who is fed regularly upon half- 
baked bread, burnt or raw beef, and vile tea and 
coffee. Comfort with most of us is essential to 
happiness. And I have seen the peace of a whole 
family destroyed for the day by having muddy 
coffee for breakfast. Now, Emeline, I'm coming 
to the point. For years this matter has been a 
burden upon my mind, day and night. I have 
been longing to reach the ears and hearts of my 
countrywomen upon this subject. At last the 
longing has taking shape and form, and I see now 
in what way I can approach them. As so much 
of wealth and happiness, as well as enjoyment, is 
dependent upon the food we eat, and as no home 
can deserve the name without a- well-ordered table, 
I have concluded to write a cook-book." 

"Write a cook-book! W^eli, why in the name 



HOW IT HAPPENED. 13 

%of all that is sensible, didn't you say so? But I 
can't for the life of me sec how your writing a 
cook-book will remedy the evils of which you 
complain, or enable us to dispense with servants 
at AVestfield. We have n perfect library of cook- 
books already, and of making them there appears 
to be no end. It requires an ordinary lifetime, 
almost, to even glance at the thousands and tens 
of thousands of recipes our numberless cook- 
books contain, many of them proved perfect, and 
handed down from generation to generation, along 
with the family china and silver. Don't do it, 
Kate." 

" Cousin Emeline, you fail to comprehend my 
purpose. I'm not going to add another to the list 
of abominations miscalled cook-books, in which it 
is impossil)le to find a recipe whereby an unskilled 
or inexperienced housewife can make a loaf of 
bread equal to that made by our best bakers. In 
this one, which I pick up at random, I find only 
eleven recipes in any way touching bread, — not 
one of them minute and careful in detail, — while 
I find in it sixty for cake, and fifty-eight for pies 
and puddings. From glancing over our popular 
cook-books, one Avould be apt to conclude the 
leading praA^er of their writers Avas, ' Give us this 
day our daily pastry.' In my cook-book I will 
deal with the essential articles of food. I will 
dilate upon the charms of bread, meats, and vcge- 



14 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

tables, at their best ; and omit those ncn-essential^ 
and indigestible messes and mixtures, that have 
been heretofore thrust so prominently forward. 
Cook-booJ^ makers seem to take it for granted 
that everybody knows how to make bread, broil a 
steak, cook a potato, etc., etc. Yet these are the 
very things that are almost universally spoiled, 
and rendered unlit to eat, by the average house- 
keeper. There are plenty of women — ten to one 
I might say truthfully — who can make nice cakcj, 
— but can't bake good bread, or broil a beefsteak 
or mutton-chop properly. It is said : ^ A fair 
Charlotte-Russe is easier to gain than a good cup 
of coffee ; and you shall find a sparkling jelly to 
to your dessert where you sighed in vain for so 
simple a luxury as a well-cooked potato.' In this 
retreat of ours, w^e will have undisturbed sway in 
the kitchen as well as in the parlor, and I will do 
the cooking in order to illustrate the perfection 
of my recipes and methods." 

"And a sorry time we Avill have, I fear, in eat- 
ing the results of your experiments," retorted 
Emeline ; " but no matter ; anything is preferable 
to this horrid New York life. Let us call Alice, 
and see if she consents to our plan." 

Alice not only consented, but was greatly de- 
lighted at the prospect of this nofel summer in 
the country ; and still more that she would have 
an opportunity of penetrating the mysteries of 



HOW IT HAPPENED. 15 

the kitchen, or, as she expressed it, of " dabbling 
in dough." 

So the question was speedily settled. And 
jvmed and equipped with chintz wrappers, linen 
aprons, and rubber gloves, we arrived in due sea- 
son at Maplewood, where, in the grand old 
kitchen, Alice and I were to be found, morning and 
evening, with rare exceptions, all through that 
delightful summer, learning our lessons in the 
science of cookery. 



16 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 



CHAPTER n. 

HOW WE MADE BREAD. 

I WAS indulgent to Alice, and for three days 
allowed her to wander at will about the grounds 
and through the maple forest near by, — to sit upon 
the verandas, where clambering roses and sweet 
honeysuckle scattered perfume on every breeze 
that stole into the house, — to drink in the song of 
birds until her heart overflowed with music. 
Then, one morning, interrupting her in a trill, 
which, for low, sweet melody, rivalled the robin's 
song, I said quietly, — 

"Alice, my child, come to the kitchen and make 
the yeast, for to-morrow we bake." 

Stifling a half sigh, Alice ran after me, whirl- 
ing and dancing as she went ; and this is the way 
she made the yeast : 

She put her small hand into the bag of hops, 
and brought it out full of the dried blossoms. 
These she placed in a tin stew-pan, and pouring 
upon them a quart of boiling water, left them to 
boil five minutes, while she stirred to a smooth 
paste a gill of flour with a little cold water. 
Then, through a tin strainer, she poured the boil- 



HOW WE MADE BREAD. 17 

iiig hop-water slowly upon the paste, stirring con- 
tinuously that it might grow thin by degrees, and 
perfectly mix with the hop-infusion. She boiled 
this thin starch for a few minutes, stirring it while 
on the range, lest it should settle and burn on the 
bottom of the pan. Then she returned it to the 
bowl, adding a large spoonful of salt and the same 
of white sugar. When this mixture had cooled 
to blood heat — or say 98° Fahrenheit — she 
added a gill of yeast procured from the baker. 
Stirring all well together, she covered the bowl 
closely, throwing over it several folds of blanket 
to protect it from draughts of air, and left it to 
ferment or rise. Five or six hours later, finding 
it getting light, she gave it a good beating, which 
caused it to settle ; and this she repeated several 
times during the day, until the yeast was " quiet " 
enough to be poured into a glass jar, covered, and 
set away in the cellar. 

Each week during the summer this process of 
making yeast should be repeated, always reserv- 
ing a gill of the old yeast to start the new, and 
always washing and scalding the glass jar with 
care. If at any time your old yeast should be 
unfit to start the new with, and you are unable to 
procure any of a baker, yeast cakes will answer 
the purpose. 

It is less trouble to make yeast and keep it on 
hand, than to send to the baker's for it when 



18 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

required ; besides, yeast made in this manner is 
superior to that used by most bakers. In winter 
it will keep two weeks. Glass is better than 
stone for keeping yeast, being less porous, more 
easily handled, and more readily cleansed. 

At nine o'clock in the eveninsr we set the fer- 
ment for the next day's baking. Into a large 
earthen bowl we put four medium-sized potatoes, 
— pared, boiled, and mashed, the same as for the 
table. The water in which they boiled, we 
drained carefully away. Many cooks use this 
potato- water to set the ferment ; but " the potato, 
nutritious and harmless as it appears, belongs to a 
family suspected of very dangerous traits. It is 
a family connection of the deadly nightshade, and 
other ill-reputed gentry, and sometimes shows 
strange proclivities to evil, — now breaking out 
uproariously, as in the noted potato-rot, and now 
more covertly in various evil affections. For this 
reason, scientific directors bid us beware of the 
Avater in which potatoes are boiled — into which it 
appears the evil principle is drawn off; and they 
caution us not to shred them into stews without 
previously suffering the slices to lie for an hour or 
so in salt and water." 

To the potato we added a pint of flour, and, 
gradually, two quarts of boiling water, stirring 
the mixture constantly meanwhile. When all the 
water was in, the contents of the bowl resembled 



HOW WE MADE BREAD. 19 

thin starch. When the temperature of the fer- 
ment had cooled to blood-heat, we added a gill of 
our new yeast, stirred it well, and covered it 
closely, that it might retain its warmth unchilled 
till morning. 

Upon entering the kitchen next morning, I 
found Alice already there. 

"Have you looked at the ferment?" I asked. 

"No, Cousin Kate, I dare not touch anything in 
3^our absence, lest I do mischief; but, pray, let 
me see it. Why, it looks like sea-foam. How 
very lovely ! " 

"Yes," I replied, "and were you to taste it, you 
would find it not unpleasant, but a little sweet and 
biting to the tongue. And now, from this pan of 
flour, which we first sift and warm, we Avill add to 
the ferment a handful at a time, stirring and beat- 
ing it well meanwhile, until it is thick as batter; 
then covering, leave it to rise. When light again, 
and fairly dancing with life (or is it the dance of 
death ?) , give it more flour and a good beating. 
This whipping seems to take all the life out of the 
batter, but you will find that the dough quickly 
recovers its old spirits, and is all the lighter for 
the heavy strokes given it. You will observe, 
Alice, that I put no salt in the bread, there being 
enough in the yeast to prevent it from tasting fresh 
or flat. No one, I think, can like to taste salt in 
bread." 



20 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

" Cousin Kate, why do you set the ferment to 
rise in an earthen bowl instead of a tin pan or 
wooden tray ? " 

" Tin does not protect the ferment from cold air 
as does this thick earthenware ; and w^ooden ves- 
sels are clumsy to handle, and difficult to keep 
clean and sweet. Bear in mind, Alice, that you 
cannot have perfect success in bread-making, if 
you allow the ferment or sponge to change tem- 
perature, alternating from cold to heat: you must 
not permit it to take a chill, and then force it into 
a fever by means of hot-air baths. Such treat- 
ment will utterly demoralize any bread-sponge. 
Start the bread at blood-heat, then keep it well 
covered ; and whenever you add flour, let it be of 
a moderately warm temperature. 

" When the sponge is too stiff to be stirred and 
beaten in this manner, put your hand into it, and 
work it very thoroughly, adding flour slowly until 
the douo^h clins^s too-ether and seems to have a 
decided character of its own. The sides of the 
bowl will then be clean of dough, and you can lift 
the mass all together, and place it on the bread- 
board, where you will knead it for half an hour 
longer, adding flour only as is necessary to keep 
the dough from sticking to the board or hands. 

" When it works clean on the board, and seems 
lively and spirited, it is well moulded ; but test 
its temper in this way : give the dough a deep 



HOW WE MADE BllEAD. 21 

poke with your fist, and if it takes the iusult 
meekly and settles down on the board, it is not 
v/orked sufficiently; but if, on the contrary, it 
seems to resent the assault, and springs back after 
your retreating hand, it is all right. 

"Instead of kneading a large mass of dough on 
the moulding-board, it is better to divide it, work- 
ing the several parts alternately. Not only 
because it is easier to mould in small parcels, but 
because fermentation during the interval of rest 
softens and renders it lighter than if contin- 
uously moulded. 

"We will divide this dough into two parts, one 
of which we will place in this earthen bowl, 
which has been warmed and well greased, you 
perceive, and, covering closely, set aside to make 
into French twist after it has again risen. The 
remaining half we will subdivide into four parts, 
making each into a round mass ; then by rolling it 
back and forth under the hand, bring it into a form 
resembling these bread-pans, which are four or five 
inches wide, eight or ten long, and six deep ; and 
made, you observe, of sheet-iron, not tin. But 
for the weight, I would prefer to have them of 
cast-iron. 

"Having v/armed and greased the pans, put the 
loaves in, and set them on the table close together, 
covering them first with a towel, then with sev- 
eral folds of woollen blanket or other cloth, reach- 



22 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

ing to the table on all sides, thus excluding the 
air from the pans. Bread covered in this way 
rises evenly, and never has a dried, stifi' surface 
before it is leaked. 

" This bread will need to stand in the pans to 
rise about an hour, perhaps longer, the exact time 
required depending upon the quantity of flour 
added at the last kneading, the temperature of the 
bread when put in the pans, the state of the 
atmosphere of the room, the size of the loaves, 
and other circumstances. To decide when bread 
is just light enough is a very nice point, and not 
less important than difficult ; for, if you put it to 
bake a moment too soon, you fail to realize all 
the good which your labor has entitled you to ; 
while, if you permit it to pass the point of perfect 
lightness, you lose the bcbt results of your toil. 

"Here, Alice, read what Miss Beecher says 
upon the subject of bread, in the 'American 
Woman's Home.'" 

" The true housewife makes her bread the sov- 
ereign of her kitchen — its behests must be at- 
tended to in all critical points and moments, no 
matter what else be postponed. She who attends 
to her bread only when she has done this, and 
arranged that, and performed the other, very 
often finds that the forces of nature will not 
wait for her. The snowy mass perfectly mixed. 



HOW WE MADE BREAD. 23 

kneaded with care and strength, rises in its beau- 
tiful perfection till the moment comes for fixing 
the air-cells by baking. A few moments now, 
and the acetous fermentation will begin, and the 
whole result be spoiled. ^lany bread-makers 
pass in utter carelessness over this sacred and 
mysterious boundary. Their oven has cake in 
it, or they are skimming jelly, or attending to 
some other of the so-called higher branches of 
cookery, while the bread is quickly passing into 
the acetous stage. At last, when they are ready 
to attend to it, they lind that it has been going its 
own way ; it is so sour that the pungent smell is 
plainly perceptible. Now, the saleratus-bottle is 
hauled down and a quantity of the dissolved alkali 
is mixed with the paste, — an expedient sometimes 
making itself too manifest by greenish streaks and 
small acrid spots in the bread. As the result, we 
have a beautiful article spoiled, — bread without 
sweetness, if not absolutely sour. 

"In the view of many, lightness is the only 
property required in this article. The delicate, 
refined sweetness, which exists in carefully 
kneaded bread, baked just before it passes to 
the extreme point of fermentation, is something 
of Avhich they have no conception ; and thus 
they will even regard this process of spoiling 
the paste by acetous fermentation, and then rec- 
tifying that acid by effervescence with an alkali, 



24 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

as something positively meritorious. How else 
can they relish baker's loaves, such as some pro- 
duce, drugged with ammonia and other disagree- 
able things; light, indeed, — so light that they 
seem to have neither weight nor substance, but 
with no more sweetness than so much cotton 
wool ? 

" Some persons prepare bread for the oven by 
simply mixing it in the mass, without kneading, 
pouring it into pans, and suffering it to rise there. 
The air-cells in bread thus prepared are coarse 
and uneven ; the bread is as inferior in delicacy 
and nicety to that which is well kneaded, as a 
raw servant to a perfectly educated and refined 
lady. The process of kneading seems to impart 
an evenness to the minute air-cells, a firmness of 
texture, and a tenderness and pliability to the 
whole substance, that can be gained in no other 
way. 

" The divine principle of beauty has its reign 
over bread as wxll as over all other things ; it has 
its laws of aesthetics ; and the bread which is so 
prepared that it can be formed into separate 
and well-proportioned loaves, each one carefully 
worked and moulded, will develop the most 
beautiful results. 

" After being moulded, the loaves should stand 
usually not over ten minutes, — just long enough 
to allow the fermentation going on in them to 



HOW WE MADE BREAD. 25 

expand each little air-cell to the point at which it 
stood before it was worked down, and then they 
shonld be immediately put into the oven. 

"Many a good thing, however, is spoiled in 
the oven. One thins: should be borne in mind 
as a prhiciple : that the excellence of bread in all 
its varieties — plain or sweetened — depends on 
the perfection of its air-cells, whether produced 
by yeast, ogg, or effervescence ; that one of the 
objects of baking is to fix these air-cells ; and 
that the quicker this can be done through the 
whole mass, the better will the result be. When 
cake or bread is made heavy by baking too quickly, 
it is because the immediate formation of the top 
crust hinders the exhaling of the moisture in the 
centre, and prevents the air-cells from cooking. 
The weight, also, of the crust pressing down on 
the doughy air-cells below, destroys them, — pro- 
ducing that horror of good cooks, a heavy streak. 
The problem in baking, then, is the quick appli- 
cation of heat, rather below than above the loaf, 
and its stead}^ continuance till all the air-cells 
are thoroughly dried into permanent consistency. 
Every housewife must watch her own oven to 
know how this can be best accomplished." 

"Cousin Kate, Miss Beecher says that after 
being put in the pans, the bread should stand 
not more than ten or fifteen minutes to rise, but 
you say an hour." 



26 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

" Miss Beecher referred to bread which is al- 
lowed to rise in mass, after all the flour is in ; 
and which is kneaded the last» time only just 
enough to shape it into loaves ; but in this bread 
which we are now baking, we dispense with this 
last moulding, as I think the bread sweeter with- 
out it. In the earlier stages of the process there 
is no danger of working bread too much ; but, 
after all the flour is in, and has been well worked 
and perfectly fermented, the less it is manipulated 
and the sooner it is put to bake, the better." 

"Cousin Kate, why do you prefer these small 
pans for baking, to a large pan, which would hold 
all four of the loaves ? " 

"For the reason given in the extract just read, 
that ' the excellence of bread depends on the per- 
fection of its air-cells, that one of the objects of 
baking is to fix these air-cells, and that the quicker 
this can be done through the whole mass, the bet- 
ter will the result be.' 

" Therefore, bake in small loaves, and let the 
loaf touch the pan at all points, — not another loaf. 
I have another reason, because it gives more 
crust ; and crust is not only palatable, but a 
physiological necessity. Remember that many a 
good thing is spoiled in the oven, and when you 
put the bread in the pans to rise, look after the 
ransje fire." 

"Cousin Kate, to return to the bread which is 



HOW WE MADE BREAD. 27 

rising, how am I to know when that critical 
moment of perfect and exact lightness has come? 
You have warned me against putting it to bake 
too soon, and cautioned me not to allow it to stand 
too long. Miss Beecher has also discoursed elo- 
quently upon this fine point ; but neither you nor 
she has explained the signs and signals that shall 
proclaim, 'Behold, this bread is at the supreme 
moment of its existence ; it has risen to its best 
and highest point of perfection.'" 

" That, Alice, is a difficult thing to do, so much 
depends upon the close observation and fine dis- 
crimination of the baker. But when you put 
bread in the condition of this into the pans, notice 
the size of the loaf, and allow it in rising to double 
its bulk. When light, if you press your finger 
gently upon the top of the loaf it will feel soft and 
spongy beneath. Press it away slightly from the 
side of the pan in such manner that you can see 
the texture or grain, and, if it looks light, put it 
into the oven ; for 1 would have it bake while 
rising toward perfection unattained, rather than 
after having fallen from grace. The taste of the 
first suggests a better state as possible ; while 
that of the last is hopelessly flat, stale, and un- 
profitable. 

"The bread should be in the oven ten or fifteen 
minutes before it shows any little brown spots on 
its surface ; and 'if these appear too soon, lessen 



2S COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

the heat, — not by opening the oven-cloor, but by 
regulating the clamper and draughts of the range. 
If the bread is not over light when put in the 
oven, it had better bake too slowly at first than 
too quickly ; and the heat should be greatest 
under the loaf. 

"It is highly important that the heat of the 
oven should be just right when the bread is put in 
it ; for if it bakes too quickly, it will not rise 
properly, and if it bakes too slowly it will lack 
character and sweetness. Close observation, how- 
ever, will very soon enable any one to decide 
when the oven is at right heat. 

" When the bread is baked, the heat of the oven 
should decrease gradually, so that the last of the 
baking may be done very moderately. Be careful 
not to remove the bread from the oven until it is 
well done, or perfectly * soaked,' as the Southern 
cooks say. When done, the crust should be 
firm, and equally brown all over. It should ])e a 
rich russet-gold, on the verge of a browner tinge, 
— not that pale, sickly hue suggesting a dull fire, 
and general dilapidation. To determine if bread 
is done, wet your finger, and touch the bottom of 
the pan outside ; if it hisses, the bread is done, 
unless it has baked too rapidly. 

" My grandmother's test was to touch the bottom 
of the loaf to the end of her nose ; if it burned 
her nose, the bread w\as not done. But you can 



HOW WE MADE BREAD. 29 

judge best from the length of time it has been in 
the oven, and from its lightness, whether or not 
bread is thoroughly baked. A loaf six inches 
thick should bake an hour, and thinner loaves in 
proportion ; and a loaf of bread is much lighter 
after than before it is well-baked. Always bake 
small, thin loaves, unless forced to economize 
oven-room, as they are sweeter than larger ones. 
For this reason braided bread, or French twist, is 
a desirable form of loaf. 

" For the twist, take a piece of dough the size 
of a small loaf, and bring it into a long loaf shape, 
pointing it at the ends by giving them an extra 
pressure or rolling ; then, with a rolling-pin, flat- 
ten it like a pie-crust, rolling back and forth 
lengthwise, as it must be much longer than it is 
wide. Leave it an iuch*iu thickness, and, with a 
a sharp knife, cut it lengthwise into three strips of 
equal width. Leave these strips unseparated at 
the end farthest from you, aud carefully plait or 
braid them, pinching the ends well together. 
Lift the twist with care, and place it in a pan 
large enough to hold it without crushing or mar- 
ring its form. If the dough is not allowed to get 
cold and is properly covered, such twists will rise 
in fifteen or twenty minutes ; but rememl)er, they 
should be lighter than bread. If not baked too 
brown, they will heat over nicely, by being placed 
for a few minute^ in a hot oven and allowed to 



30 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

heat thoroughly, to the extent of taking on a 
browner tinge. A twist reheated I think better 
than one newly baked ; but a twist dried for half 
an hour in a warm oven is another thing. Many 
cooks bake twists too lightly ; all bread is more 
digestible well baked. 

"Upon removing bread from the oven, take it 
out of the pans and tilt it against something upon 
the table, leaving as much of the surface exposed 
to the air as possible. Turn it after a few minutes, 
lest it sweat and soften where it rests. Cover it 
with nothing so long as it is too hot to be molested 
by flies ; and, as it cools, if necessary, throw over 
it a very light bread-cloth. When quite cold, put 
it into a bread-box, which should be of tin, or 
wood lined with zinc, — in a square form, and with 
a convenient cover. Da not keep bread in the 
cellar or other damp place, nor in a closet where 
there is the odor of preserves or pickles. Taken 
care of in this way, bread will keep perfectly for 
several days, and I think is better the second or 
third day after baking than the day it is baked. 
Never allow loaves of bread to be cut while warm ; 
for such use, bake in rolls or French twists, and 
be very careful to have the bread-box emptied of 
all stale pieces or crumbs, and perfectly clean and 
dry when the new bread is put away. But this 
will suffice for our lesson to-day." 



STILL DiVBBLING IN DOUGH. 31 



CHAPTER III. 

STILL DABBLING IN DOUGH. 

"To-day, Alice, we will make rolls and Gra- 
ham bread. Let us begin with Graham bread. 
Having set the ferment last night, we noAV divide 
it, pouring a portion into a separate bowl, into 
which we stir Graham flour, adding more or less 
sugar, according to taste, and a little salt. Add 
flour, in small quantities at a time, and allow the 
sponge to rise during the intervals. When too 
stifi" to stir readily, work well with the hand until 
the dough seems very elastic and clinging. Add, 
at this working, all the flour required. When 
stifi* enough, the dough will w^ork free from the 
sides of the bowl ; but Graham bread should be 
made less stiff* than white bread. Leave it in the 
bowl to rise ; and, when light, knead it upon the 
board only enough to shape into loaves, and 
then put it in pans to rise. 

" It is well to gash all loaves of bread with a 
sharp knife, after they are in the pan. This in- 
cision should be an inch deep, and extend nearly 
the length of the loaf. This prevents binding, 
and allows the loaf, in rising, more freedom to 



32 COOiaNG AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

shape itself gracefully. Put into warm pans, well 
covered, in a warm room, these Graham loaves 
will rise in twenty or thirty minutes ; possibly fif- 
teen. Graham bread does not require quite so 
hot an oven as white bread, but should bake a 
longer time. 

" For rolls we have here a quart or three pints 
of ferment, into which we stir flour, the same as 
for bread. In every case be careful to have the 
flour warm, so that the fermentation may not be 
checked. Should you, at any time, find the fer- 
ment or sponge has received a chill, and is slow 
in its action, add the necessary warmth, not by 
placing it over a hot range, or close to the stove, 
where the heat will be extreme at some points, 
but by putting the bowl containing the sponge in 
a pan of warm water, and stirring it until the 
whole mass of dough becomes of an even temper- 
ature. When this roll-sponge is thick enough to 
be worked by the hand, add to it an ounce of but- 
ter, or lard, for each pint of ferment. If you desire 
to have rolls light and spongy, work them at least 
half an hour in the bowl, adding flour very grad- 
ually. Then place the dough upon the moulding- 
board and knead it well, adding flour only as is 
necessary to prevent it from sticking to the board 
and hands. The appearance of blisters upon the 
dough is an indication that it is well worked. 
Havinir washed and warmed the bowl, and greased 



STILL DABBLING IN DOUGH. 33 

it with sweet lard or butter, return the dough to 
it, and let it rise. When light, loosen the dough 
from the edge of the bowl and it will come out 
clean. If the greasing is omitted, the dough ad- 
heres, and must be scraped from the bowl and 
then rubbed from the fingers by means of flour. 
This covers the moulding-board with little hard 
w^•lds, unfit to be worked into bread at this 
stage. 

" Bring the dough quickly, with a few pressures, 
into a compact roll, and lay it aside. Cut from it 
a piece the size of a small loaf, and divide this 
into eight or ten parts ; mould each in a round 
shape ; and then, by rolling quickly back and 
forth under your hands, bring it into a long roll- 
form. Give the ends an extra roll, which points 
them slightly. Place at one end of the bread-pan, 
and proceed in like manner to fill the pan with 
rolls. It is well to flour the sides of the rolls 
where they touch each other, as that will keep 
them from running together ; and, when baked, 
they are easily separated. Cover, and when very 
light, bake the same as twist. They are nice re- 
heated. To ascertain if they are done, test them 
the same as bread ; and if you are still in doubt, 
separate one from its fellows and press the finger 
against the soft part. If it retain the impression 
of the finger, it is not done. When baked suffi- 
ciently, all bread, when the finger is pressed 



34 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

against it, will rebound as soon as the pressure is 
withdrawn. 

" When you wish to astonish your friends with 
a marvel of delicate lightness in rolls, add to the 
dough, when worked nearly enough to go on the 
moulding-board, the whites of three or four eggs, 
beaten to a stiif froth, and an additional half-ounce 
of butter for each egg. The butter should be 
worked in first ; the eggs later, and a little at a 
time, alternating with flour. If eaten the same 
day they are baked, these rolls are more delicate, 
being lighter, more spongy, and whiter, than 
without the egg ; but they are also richer, and do 
not keep so well. In making egg-rolls, work 
them almost entirely in the bowl, for they must 
remain too soft to l)e long worked on the board. 
The bread we have already baked is the kind pre- 
ferred by most people, being light, spongy, and 
sweet. For eating when fresh, for making into 
milk toast, bread puddings, or griddle-cakes, and 
for crumbs with which to scallop or fry oysters, 
perhaps it is better for the spongy quality ; but to 
a lover of bread and butter, pure and simple, 
bread made in the same manner, without potato, 
is best. It is light, but firmer and more compact 
in texture, and has a crisp sweetness excelling the 
other. In dry toast it is far better, having none 
of that husky emptiness which is a characteristic 
of dry toast made from spongy bread. Good 



STILL DABBLING IN DOUGH. 35 

bread may be made without potato, with very 
little labor. Beating it for a moment whenever 
flour is added, it need receive no other attention 
until stiff enough to be worked vrith. the hand, 
when all the flour required can be worked in, dur- 
ing fifteen minutes' kneading, and the bread be 
placed immediately in the pans to rise. Make in 
this manner, and given only this small amount of 
time and labor, it will be found vastly supe- 
rior to the bread at present disgracing a large pro- 
portion of American tables." 

" Cousin Kate, why do you scald the flour with 
which you set the ferment for bread ? " 

"After trying various methods, I obtained the 
best results from so doing. Eising more slowdy 
at first, the ferment appears to be quicker and 
more active, when its strength is most required to 
lighten the mass of flour. The scalding also pre- 
vents the ferment from souring; and it can, after 
becoming light, stand for hours without acquiring 
that yeasty smell and taste which spoil so much 
bread. But I have found, Alice, that to add flour, 
or remould just before the ferment or sponge at- 
tains its lightest stage, is always best; for if it 
passes that stage a moment, and ' falls ' or * settles,' 
something of sweetness and perfection is lost, that 
no care or labor cau restore." 

" Why do you use the wooden stick or spatula, 
instead of a spoon, for beating the sponge?" 



36 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

"For several reasons. One is, that it is lighter ; 
and the handle being round and smooth, does not 
fret the hand like metal. Then, it cuts through 
the dough more effectually than a spoon. My 
grandmother's hasty-pudding stick was the model 
after which this was made. It is well to have 
several of these in a house. They should be made 
of various sizes, of hickory, ash, or other hard 
wood, and should be from a foot and a half to two 
feet lonsr. The blade should be from one and a 
half to two and a half inches in width, and four or 
five in length, thickest in the middle, gradually 
growing thin toward the edges, and square at the 
bottom. This stick is preferable to a spoon for 
beating cake or stirring mushes, and is quite indis- 
pensable in the fruit season, to keep small fruits 
stirred from the bottom of the preserving-kettle 
while cooking." 

"Cousin Kate, all the cook-books that I have 
seen agree that milk is better than water for mak- 
ing bread. Why do you not use it?" 

"For the reason that I differ in opinion from 
those who think milk best. Milk that stands and 
ferments, usually acquires an unpleasant smell and 
taste. Sponge made with milk is more likely to 
sour ; and bread made with milk, at the same time 
that it is less sweet in flavor, dries sooner, and 
does not keep so Avell. Lastl}^, water is cheaper, 
and within the reach of all. The ferment for next 



STILL DABBLING IN DOUGH. 37 

day's baking can be set at any time during the 
afternoon or evening, except in hot weather, when 
it is better to start it about eight or nine o'clock 
in the evening." 

*'You don't seem to have much faith in the 
efficacy of soda in baking and cooking ? " 

" Soda, as used in many househokls, is one of 
the greatest abominations of the kitchen. It is a 
malion intruder in all mixtures where an acid is 
wanting ; and even where an acid is present, it 
should be used with great care and discretion. 
The introduction of baking-powders is a good 
thing; for in these the acid and the alkali are 
more accurately proportioned than by careless 
cooks. Whenever I speak of a measure of bak- 
ing-powder, I mean to designate the amount which 
the maker of the powder directs to be used in a 
given quantity of flour. Those baking-powders 
which are put up in separate parcels — the one 
containing the alkali, the other the acid — are 
perhaps preferable, but should only be used by 
cooks who believe in careful and exact measure- 
ments. In some cases, tin measures accompany 
the powder ; in others, a teaspoon is the measure 
desimiated. To attain exactness in these measure- 
ments, place a portion of the powder on the mould- 
ing-board, and, with a knife, mash it smooth; 
then, fill the measure heaping full, and, with the 
knife, strike oif all above the rim. Where exact- 



38 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING, 

ness is indispensable, make even (never heaping) 
measures. Mix the quantity to be used with a 
small portion of flour by repeated siftings, which 
can be easily and quickly accomplished by the use 
of two pieces of strong soft paper. Place the 
sieve on one of these, and empty the flour from 
the other into it ; shake through, and repeat as 
often as desirable. In all batter-cakes or soft 
dough, where baking-powder is used, mix it in 
this manner with a small quantity of flour, which 
add near the close of the mixing process ; but in 
biscuit and stiff dough, sift the baking-powder 
through all the flour used. Some cooks are 
affected with soda mania. On general principles, 
as it seems, they put soda in all breads and cakes. 
If not required to sweeten or make light, they 
confidently assert it will make tender. So the 
greens are plagued, the string-beans tormented, 
and the young pease cursed, by this evil spirit, 
the exorcism of which would be a blessing to 
thousands. 

"For lunch to-day, Alice, you shall make some 
cream biscuit which will take your mamma cap- 
tive, and charm her as completely as any material 
substance can, if the biscuits you produce rival, 
as I hope the}^ may, the puffy things made by my 
rosy-cheeked friend, Sally. Sally and I were girls 
together, and much of my summer rest was found 
at the old farm-house, where she and her sisters 



STILL DABBLING IN DOUGH. 39 

grew up, blossomed, and faded, as the years went 
by, in which I served my State as instructor of 
its youth. Through all my life, in which, I am 
sorry to say, hot biscuits have been a not infre- 
quent event, I have never found any that quite 
equalled Sally's. She, however, was the only 
one in the family who invariably made them just 
ri«:ht. If her mother or one of her sisters under- 
took the task, the cakes often came out of the 
oven yellow, and smelling of soda because of an 
overdose; or white and *sad,' because too little 
had been used ; for the exact amount required 
depended upon the acidity of the cream. Sally 
had the knack of guessing just right. Taking the 
bowl of sour cream in her hand, she would stir 
and taste it with a critical air ; and giving a w^iso 
little nod, as if she had solved the riddle, proceed 
to measure a teaspoon, half full, even full, or heap- 
ing full, of soda, which she placed in a cup, and 
poured on it a spoonful of boiling water. Let- 
ting this stand, she made room in the middle of 
the flour for the cream; and, with., her fingers, 
mixed the flour nearest the cream lightly in, add- 
ing a pinch of salt. While it was still a soft 
batter, she drained into it the soda, leaving any 
sediment there might be in the cup. Then her 
hands danced here and there through the dough, 
mixing it rapidly until stifi* enough to roll out on 
the bread-board, cut into round cakes, and place 



40 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUn^DING. 

immediately Iq a quick oven. In twenty minutes 
these cakes came out of the oven four times as 
thick as they went in, the most delicate, puJSy 
things imaginable ; but i/oicr cream biscuit, Alice, 
must be made with sweet milk and a little butter, 
instead of cream. 

" To a quart of flour, add a measure of baking- 
powder, sifting the whole three or four times, and 
two ounces of butter, so carefully rubbed through 
the flour that you cannot find a particle the size 
of a pin-head. Add cold sweet milk, to make a 
soft dough; roll out, cut into cakes, and bake in 
a quick oven." 

At lunch. Cousin Emeline praised the biscuits 
as she ate them with strawberries, which had been 
sprinkled with sugar, and set in the refrigerator 
for half an hour. The sugar, with its sweet art, 
had coaxed enough juice from the berries to dis- 
solve itself; and, wrapped in this delicious syrup, 
the berries were far more palatable than when 
eaten sharpl}^ acid, with a portion of dry sugar. 
Alice was pleased with the praise her mother 
bestowed upon the biscuit, until it occurred to her 
that even a higher achievement had been possible. 
Then she asked, half reproachfully, — 

" Cousin Kate, why did you not have me make 
a strawberry shortcake, — or don't you know 
how?" 

" Oh, yes. You would make the shortcake just 



STILL DABBLING IN DOUGH. 41 

like these biscuits ; roll the dough quite thin, not 
much thicker than pie-crust, and baking on pie- 
pans, the size of the pan. When baked, with a 
fork and your fingers separate the upper and 
under crust of the cake, spread the inside with 
butter, and laying one-half of the cake on a plate, 
cover it thickly with berries, well sprinkled with 
susrar. Then add another half cake and another 
layer of berries, till the pie is thick enough, fin- 
ishing with fruit. If you desire to disguise, and, 
in a measure, destroy the flavor of the berry, 
serve strawberry shortcake Avith sweet cream 
poured over it. The cream also renders it more 
indigestible. My opinion is, that any one, after 
eating sweet, crisp loaf-bread, a day old, with 
strawberries served lilvc these, will never volun- 
tarily run the risk of dyspepsia, for the sake of 
hot biscuit or strawberry shortcake. 

"Belonging to the bread family, and a very 
genuine, respectable member thereof, is our round, 
chubby little travelling companion, known as 
'Maryland Biscuit.' Although rarely met with 
outside the State whose name it bears, it is a very 
desirable acquaintance for travellers who provide 
their own lunches ; for picnic parties, and for 
ladies who desire always to have the pantry well 
stored with good things. The Maryland biscuit 
occupies that happy medium state between a 
cracker and an ordinary biscuit or roll, and is by 



42 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

many preferred to either. To bring these cukes 
out of the oven perfect specimens of their kind, 
requires some labor, as it is necessary not only to 
knead, but also to pound qv beat them with a 
heavy hammer or mallet. ' To four pints of flour 
add three ounces of lard, a teaspoonful of salt, 
and a pint.of cold water. Rub the lard and salt 
through the flour until perfectly mixed, before 
adding the water. This proportion of w\ater may 
not be the exact quantity in all cases, as some 
flour requires more, some less ; but the dough 
must be very stiff", and rendered soft and pliable 
by working and pounding. When light, and well 
w^orked, the dough will ^ blister,' and pulling off 
a small piece quickly will cause a sharp, snapping 
sound. When these signs appear, rest from the 
labor of pounding ; gather between your fingers a 
little ^vad of the dough, pull it suddenly from the 
main lump, and, moulding it into a round mass, 
lay aside, face downward. In like manner fashion 
enough to fill the bread-pan. Then, one by one, 
pick up these round balls, and hold each for an 
instant in the hollow of your left hand. While 
nestled there so cozily, place your right thumb 
squarel}' in its face, enlarging equally its surface, 
and leaving a hollow in the centre ; place in the 
bread-pan, not allowing the biscuits to touch each 
other. Prick them with a fork. Bake at once in 
a hot oven until done, and of a light brown color. 



STILL DABBLING IN DOUGH. 43 

If the cakes are * sad,' or heavy inside, when cold, 
they are not sufficiently baked, as they should be 
light, and of a fine, even grain. AYlien most per- 
fect, these biscuits crack at the edges or sides, the 
upper and under crust being forced apart, in order 
to give a hint of the lightness and whiteness 
within. When your oven is sufficiently hot, 
twenty minutes is about the average time required 
to bake them properly. ^ 

" No Maryland supper-table is in company order 
without these modest, unpretending little fellows, 
who are quite at home with fried oysters, and fit 
company for cold turkey and broiled chicken." 

One morning at breakfast, Alice asked, " When 
m!iy I be queen of the kitchen for a whole week, 
and do all the cooking without any supervision. 
Cousin Kate? I shall not feel really certain that 
I know how to cook so long as you have to over- 
see me. Besides, when are you to write that 
lecture on 'The Proper Rearing and Training of 
Children,' if you devote all your time to me and 
the kitchen?" 

After reflecting a moment, I replied, "Your 
suggestion is a good one, Alice, and this plan 
occurs to me : For one week I will do the cooking, 
and you shall observe and help as heretofore ; and, 
during the week, you shall note the bill of fare at 
each meal, and make such memoranda as you 



44 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

think necessary. Then, the v/cek following, you 
niay repeat or duplicate my week of cooking." 

"I like that proposition," said Alice : andEme- 
Ime added, "I hope you'll make a judicious selec- 
tion, Kate, if w^e are to repeat the bill of fare, — 
good, bad, or indifferent." 

The next day I began on the preparatory week, 
and on the evening of the seventh day thereafter, 
I abdicated in favor of Alice, who brought her 
note-book, and, while finding the place, mur- 
mured, " For breakfast one w^eek ago to-morrow 
morning, we had — ^oh, here it is — oatmeal 
mush, picked-up codfish cooked with cream, baked 
potatoes, French twist reheated, coffee. Mem. 
— At seven o'clock, when I entered the kitchen. 
Cousin Kate stood by the long table, knife in 
hand, bending over a codfish. She stripped off 
large pieces of the fish, then cut them across the 
grain, into pieces an inch long. As these were 
two or three inches wide, she picked them into 
small bits, throwing out the bones, and letting the 
fish fidl into a pan of cold water. In a few 
minutes she had thus prepared enough for break- 
fast. Stirring it about in the water, she left it to 
freshen, while she prepared the oatmeal mush. 
Into a tin-lined stew-pan she put two pints of 
water and half a teaspoonful of salt. When the 
water boiled, she sprinkled in, slowly, half a pint 
of oatmeal, stirring it with the mush-stick. The 



STILL DABBLIXG IN DOUGH. 45 

water was boiling quite rapidly. In two minutes 
the meal was all in, but she continued to stir, 
letting it boil for two or three minutes longer, 
when it appeared about the consistency of thick 
gruel or thin batter. Then she placed the stew- 
pan back on the range, where the heat was only 
enough to keep it simmering. Removing the stick 
and covering closely, she left it undisturbed till 
breakflist. Next, she took six potatoes of medium 
size, and, washing them very clean, placed them 
in a pan ready for the oven. Then she ground 
the coffee and put it to steep, not boil. She 
allowed a tablespoonful of coffee for each cup ; 
and, placing it in the pot, added a cup of cold 
water, and set it back on the range to steep. If 
it chanced to boil, she added more cold water. 
Just before serving breakfast, she added as much 
boiling water as was needed, and allowed it to 
boil for a minute ; then she lifted the pot to the 
kitchen table, and with a spoon removed the 
grounds which adhered to the inside of the pot, 
near the top. Rinsing these off, she poured out 
part of a cup, which she put inmiediately back, 
added a spoonful of cold water, and sent the coffee 
to the breakfast-table. When mamma poured it, 
three minutes later, it was clear as amber. Cousin 
[p^ate selected a bowl-shaped iron kettle holding 
about two quarts, and not a shallow pan or spider, 
in which to cook the codfish. She stirred the fish 



46 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

about in the water, and drained it in a tin strainer, 
then placed it in the kettle with half a pint of 
fresh water, covered it close, and let it boil for 
ten minutes, or until the water was all evaporated, 
and the fish well cooked. At this stage she added 
a pint of thin cream ; and when it boiled, two 
spoonfuls of flour stirred to a smooth paste in a 
little cold milk, let it boil for a minute or two, 
peppered it lightly, and served it. About ten 
minutes before breakfast, she put the twist into 
the oven ; and, from time to time, looked at it to 
be sure it was not burning. When the potatoes 
were baked, breakfast was served immediately. 
Cousin Kate lifted the pan containing them to the 
kitchen table ; then, one by one, picked up the 
potatoes in a cloth, which she held to protect her 
hand, gave each a gentle squeeze, imtil opened its 
mouth, whence issued a pufi' of hot air ; then 
placing them in a dish, sent them to the table." 

When Alice had finished reading these notes 
from her memorandum book, I said, " Correct, to 
the minutest particular." She smilingly answered, 
as she bade me good-night, " Then let not your 
heart be troubled about breakfast, nor have a 
thought of care or responsibility. I shall ring 
the dressing-bell at half-past seven, and woe be- 
tide you and mamma, if you spoil my first break- 
fast by your tardiness." 

Cousin Emeline and I were on time next morn- 



STILL DABBLING IN DOUGH. 47 

ing, and presented our queen of the kitchen with 
a bouquet of freshly-gathered flowers, in the 
arrangement of which we had spent some anxious 
moments. As I served the codlish (white, creamy, 
and tempting), I said, "Now iJds fills the spoon in 
a plump and satisfactory manner. I am very 
fond of codfish when properly cooked ; and I find 
it terribly trying, sometimes, to have so appetiz- 
ing a dish fraudulently represented by bits of fish 
half-cooked, and salt as brine, straying forlornly 
about in a sloppy gravy. But this is just right ; 
neither too thick nor too thin. In this artistic 
combination, it is difficult to decide where the fish 
ends, and where the gravy begins." 

Here Emeline interrupted my rhapsody over 
the fish, by asking, "Where is the boiled milk 
for Kate's coffee, Alice ? " 

" There ! I've for<2:otten the milk. But how did it 
happen that it was not down in my memoranda ? " 

"For the reason, I dare say, that boiling milk 
in a milk-boiler requires very little attention. 
You fill the inner boiler Avith milk and the outer 
one with water, and set it back on the range, 
where it simmers and sings to itself, until needed ; 
and I suppose you neglected to make note of so 
trifling a matter." 

"I am very sorry, indeed. Cousin Kate ; for to 
weaken your coffee with water will spoil it." 

" Not at all, when I have cream like this. But 



48 COOKmO AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

isn't it strange, Emeline, that so indispensable a 
thing as a milk-boiler should be so rarely found 
in the kitchen? — and that the mistress of the 
house should go on, year after year, boiling milk 
in all sorts of pots and pans, — often scorching it 
so that it is unfit for use, wasting the milk, and 
spoiling her temper, all for the want of a milk- 
boiler which costs a dollar ? " 

"But supposing, Kate, she hasn't got the dollar, 
and if she asks her husband for it, he answers 
wdth contempt, ^Milk-boiler, indeed ! My mother 
was one of the best cooks in the world, and she 
never heard of a milk-boiler ! ' What would you 
do in such a crisis, Kate?" "I don't know; but 
I have serious thoughts now, of writing a lecture, 
as soon as the one about children is finished, 
entitled, ' The Abuse of Power, or the Cause and 
Cure of Domestic Infelicity.' Here Alice laughed 
outright, saying, "Excuse me. Cousin, but it 
seems so funny that you who never had husband 
or child, should write upon these subjects." 

" For that very reason, Alice, may I not be an 
impartial and unprejudiced observer? Commend 
me to an old maid or an old bachelor for true 
wisdom on these subjects." 

Thus, in idle talk we whiled away an hour over 
Alice's first breakfast, which Emeline and I pro- 
nounced a success, notwithstanding the forgotten 
milk. 



FOOD AND FANCT. 49 



CHAPTER lY. 

FOOD AND FANCY. 

Emeline passed her plate for a second piece of 
chicken, remarking, as she did so, "These chick- 
ens that you and Alice fry must be a new kind, 
for so far as I can discover, they have neither 
backs, necks, legs, nor wings. Truly a valuable 
breed this must be, which runs entirely to breast 
and second joints ; the frying kind, I suppose. 
But seriously, Kate, what do you do with the 
remainder of these fowls, and how do 3^ou cut 
such plump, compact little pieces, each one of 
which is a delicious surprise on a near acquaint- 
ance?" 

I was thinking about another matter, and 
replied, " Cousin Emeline, in this cook-book 
of mine, I mean to devote one whole chapter 
to the consideration of suitability. I have a 
friend, the charming Mrs. Eose ; you used to 
know her ; a woman of fine native talent, rare 
culture, easy, afiable manner, and great personal 
beauty. But her one charm, which with me out- 
shines all others, is tact. She has tact more per- 
fectly developed than any one I ever knew. 



50 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

Prince or beggar feels alike at ease in her pres- 
ence ; but she would never think of inviting them 
to her house on the same occasion. If she is 
going to have a little supper-party of ten or a 
dozen, and her guests are invited to meet a friend 
who may be staying with her, she says to herself, 
* Now here is Fanny, with such and such tastes. 
She is this order of person. I will invite those 
people to meet her who are harmonious ; such as 
will call out her peculiar powers ; some sharp con- 
trasts. She goes to work in an artistic manner 
and selects her guests, having reference mainly to 
suitability. This same tact is called into exercise 
in deciding what her dinner or supper shall be. 
The principal dish determines what shall be its 
companions. But many w^omen seem to lose sight 
entirely of this suitability of things, especially in 
eating. Such are just as likely to have griddle- 
cakes and fish for breakfast, as griddle-cakes and 
stewed chicken, or griddle-cakes and beefsteak." 

" But to. return to this chicken," said Emeline. 
"In all my travels, at home and abroad, I never 
tasted its equal. How is it prepared? " 

"Why, you see, mamma," said Alice, "having 
fried chicken for dinner necessitates having stewed 
chicken for breakfast, either before or after, in 
order to use the other parts. But this is true 
economy. Cousin Kate says ; for wdiile the breast 
and second joints are best fried, the other parts 



FOOD AND FANCY. 51 

are much better stewed, From the breast we get 
three nice fiying pieces, so nearly alike that you 
can scarcely tell them apart. Having decided 
where to cut it, histead of sawing and haggling 
with a dull knife, and in the stru2:o:le mutilatinor 
the pieces so that they remind you of ' the ragged 
edge of despair,' Cousin Kate puts the breast of the 
chicken on the meat-board, and placing the knife 
just where she wishes to cut, strikes it a blow that 
sends the blade through the chicken at one clean 
stroke. Having washed the pieces and dried them 
on a soft towel, while the lard, of which there 
should ))e a lil)cral supply, is heating, we rub each 
piece of chicken lightly, with salt and pepper, 
which has l^een mixed together in suitable propor- 
tions, and just l)cforc dropping into the boiling 
lard, dust it with flour. To ascertain if the lard 
is hot enough, slip into it a slice of raw potato, 
and when the potato is brown, the lard is suffi- 
ciently heated. Drop into the boiling lard one 
piece of chicken at a time, and let the bubbling 
and tunmlt, incident to its reception, somewhat 
subside before adding another. AVhen the pieces 
are of a rich brown color, they will be found 
well-cooked, and may be placed on a tin or wire 
strainer in a warm oven, until ready to serve. 
Chicken fried in this manner is much less gieasy 
than when cooked in a small quantity of lard. 
Xearlv all kinds of fresh fish are l:)est fried in the 



52 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDIXG. 

same way. To parboil a chicken before frying, 
Cousin Kate sa^^s, is barbarous treatment, not of 
the chicken but of the people who eat it after it 
has been robbed of its best juices." 

"Now, Alice, tell me how you make these 
Graham 'gems,' for I really tliink they deserve 
the name." 

"To a pint each of cold, sweet milk and pure 
water, add a teaspoonfiil of sugar, a salt-spoonful 
of salt, and three pints of Graham flour. Sprinkle 
in the flour slowl}^ stirring tjie mixture rapidly, 
and when all is added beat the dough briskly for 
a minute or two before an open window or door ; 
for Cousin Kate says, pure air is very essential to 
the life of bread, especiallj' bread which is made 
light by beating. Bake the gems in iron gem- 
pans or pulf-pans, half filling the cups which must 
be well heated and greased. Bake in a quick 
oven, the greatest heat beiug applied to the bot- 
tom when first put in the oven. 

"Fine flour gems, or English muffins, are made 
in the same manner as Graham, omitting the sugar, 
and adding a pint more of flour. Gems are good 
made with water instead of milk and water. 

"Very excellent Graham cakes are made by 
putting a teaspoonful of sugar and a salt-spoonful 
of salt into a quart of Graham flour, and pouring 
upon it boiling water, stirring it meanwhile until 
all is wet and soft enough to be worked into a 



FOOD AND FANCY, 53 

mass resembling a large roll, or small loaf of 
bread. Work it as little as possible, and when 
brought into this shape, cut it with a sharp knife, 
dipped in flour, into slices half an inch thick. 
Place these in a bread-pan and bake in a hot oven 
for half an hour, or until brown. There, Cousin 
Kate, haven't I said my lesson well?" 

" Perfectly. And having induced you, Alice, to 
make and taste these kinds of Graham bread, I am 
content, well knowing that you will push your 
investigations, and find by experiment that the 
varieties of delicious bread which can be made of 
Graham flour and water are almost numberless." 

After a moment's pause Emeline renewed the 
conversation by saying, "Kate, I hope you will 
devote some space in your book to mushes ; for, 
although not a lover of them myself, I discover a 
great difference in the appearance of oatmeal pre- 
pared by your method, and that usually served. 
And I notice that Alice eats your oatmeal with a 
relish, whereas heretofore she has seemed to eat 
all kinds of mushes from a sense of duty because 
they were recommended by her physician." 

"What a close observer you are, mamma ! " laugh- 
ingly rejoined Alice. " But I own to liking Cousin 
Kate's hygienic mushes rather better than those 
which taste so decidedly of water. Hominy grits, 
as often served, in a half-raw state, taste as I 
imagine chicken-feed does. Crushed wheat when 



54 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

half cooked seems all bran. And underdone oat- 
meal is as disagreeable a mixture as I care to par- 
take of." 

"The misnomers of the past," I said, in reply 
to these observations, "cause us a great deal of 
suffering. For instance, some careless, slovenly 
cook, years ago, may have qnickly boiled corn 
meal in water and named it "hasty pudding," and 
unthinking people, judging it is so called because 
little time is required to prepare it, go on from 
generation to generation eating half-boiled mush, 
or hasty pudding, without discovering that it is 
best when made in a manner the very reverse of 
hasty. Indeed, I know of no mush that is not 
better for much cooking ; and slow cooking is also 
preferable, after all the meal has been stirred in. 
Many persons object to mushes because of the 
trouble of preparing, as the general opinion is that 
they require a special boiler, or must l)e constantly 
stirred. This, however, is a mistake. The double 
or jacketed boiler is no doubt most convenient for 
cooking mushes in ; but a smooth, bowl-shaped, 
iron kettle, and a wooden stick or spatula Avill 
answer every purpose, and the process of making 
need not be at all laborious. 

For oatmeal, and crushed or cracked wheat, I 
use the same proportions, — one measure of meal to 
four of water, — sprinkling the meal slowly into the 
water, Avhich must be boiling, and stirring con- 



FOOD AND FANCY. * 55 

stantly. I continue the boiling and stirring, after 
the meal is all in, until the mush thickens enough 
to jump up and hop about in a lively manner. 
Then I remove the stick, cover the vessel closely, 
and set it where it will only simmer. An hour of 
this slow boiling or simmering renders oatmeal 
and crushed w^heat mushes far superior to those 
made hastily by rapid boiling. ]Not only is the 
grain and texture different ; but flavors, delicious 
and not discovered in mushes made rapidly, seem 
to be elicited from the grain by this quiet undis- 
turbed simmering — especially is this the case 
with crushed wheat. And by the way, I think it 
is a mistaken impression that crushed wheat should 
only be eaten hot. To my taste, it is far more 
delicious cold, or nearty so. 

" Many cooks complain of fine hominy or grits 
being troublesome to cook, because of its tendency 
to stick to the kettle, unless constantly stirred. 
But I find that greasing the kettle with lard or 
butter before putting the water in, seems to 
obviate the difiiculty materially. Fine hominy 
requires five measures of water to one measure of 
hominy. It should be put into cold water, and 
allowed to swell for half an hour, before the water 
boils. While swelling it should be stirred every 
few minutes. As soon as it begins to boil, place 
it w^here it will boil rapidly for ten or fifteen 
minutes, or until it becomes the proper consist- 



56 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

ency, which should be the same as that of other 
mushes, wheu it can bo set back, covered closely, 
and allowed to simmer for an hour. All kinds of 
mushes should be salted very slightly, and I think 
it better to put tlie salt in the water before stirring 
in the grain or meal. A majority of cooks spoil 
mushes by over-salting them." 

" It must be to get rid of their briny taste that 
people who eat mushes generally destroy all their 
flavor by adding immense quantities of sugar or 
syrup," observed Emeline. "The idea never 
struck me before." 

At breakfast next mornins: the stewed chicken 
was a failure, at which Alice was much mortified. 
She said, deprecatingl}^ : 

" Cousin Kate, it is not at all like yours, yet I 
was very careful to read up my notes, which said : 
*Two chickens, minus the frying pieces, are equal 
to one whole chicken. To stew them, add one- 
half pint water, cover closely, and boil gently 
or simmer smartly, until very tender. Then drain 
from them the water, add a piece of butter, or the 
oil from the water you have drained out, let them 
brown nicely, turning the pieces when necessary.' 
That is what is the matter ; I didn't brown the 
chicken. Who would suppose so small a thing 
would make so vast a difference ? " 

"This browning, Alice, changes the whole char- 
acter of the dish, and makes rich and appetizing 
what is otherwise weak and vapid." 



FOOD AND FANCY. 57 

" Go on, Alice," said her mother ; "give me the 
rest of the recipe." 

"When browned, lift the chicken, and pour 
into the stew-pan the water previously drained 
out, having removed any surplus oil. When it 
boils, thicken with flour, stirred to a smooth 
paste in a little cold milk, or sweet cream. 
Make it- thick enough to deserve the name of 
gravy, season with salt 'and pepper, and return 
the chicken to it, letting it remain in the stew- 
pan long enough to become thoroughly saturated. 
Dish chicken and gravy together." 

"Kate," remarked Emeline, " I have been preju- 
diced all my life against stewed chicken, because 
the gravy was so inefficient, — such a wretchedly 
demoralized mixture, tasting a little of chicken 
and very much of water and raw flour. But stewed 
chicken, a la Cousin Kate, has my hearty ap- 
l^roval. In England we sometimes found stewed 
chicken that was very nice. It was as this would 
be if you left out the cream and added some 
pickled mushrooms. Mushrooms give a deli- 
cious flavor to the dish." 

"Beef, veal, and lamb, are all delicious when 
stewed in the same manner," I said to Alice. 
Then Emeline continued : 

"Kate, I wonder why it is that women abhor 
the kitchen, and so detest pottering among pots 
and pans ? You open this subject to me in a new 



58 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

light, and I lose sight of the drudgery and un- 
pleasant work in my interest about results, and 
my inquiries after the cause. When we consider, 
there is nothing of greater importance than this 
question, What shall we eat, and how shall it be 
cooked ? For what order of men and women we 
are, depends very much upon the food we eat. 
The world seems divided mainly into those who 
live to eat, and those who regard eating a trouble- 
some and expensive necessity, but a nuisance. 
There are very few who eat to live in the truest 
sense." 

"The trouble, Emeline, is, that people don't 
think; they go stumbling and groping through 
life because they haven't found out that their 
brains are for use. They never consider or 
think about these things. If mothers realized 
that the food their children eat has a positive 
quality ; that it actually contains the principle 
of life or death, health or disease, they could 
not be so indifferent. Did they realize the 
vital importance of this matter, they would no 
sooner trust to a slovenly, unskilled cook the 
preparation of their children's food, than they 
would the washing of their expensive laces. Do 
they care more for their Honitons and Valen- 
ciennes than for their Toms and Marys ? I think 
not. But one washing of a fine lace by a care- 
less Bridget, reduces it to useless rags, whereas 



FOOD AND FANCY. 59 

these living and breathing jewels are destroyed 
more slowly, and the mother does not see the 
wear and tear of bad food so palpably." 

One evening Emeline and I were sitting on the 
western veranda watching the sunset, when Alice 
ran lightly up the steps. Her hat was in her 
hand, and her beautiful hair, unconfined by comb 
or plait, floated at will in wavy splendor. Her 
cheeks were glowing and her eyes sparkling as 
she spoke excitedly, 

" Oh, mamma, I've had an adventure this even- 
ing. The air was exhilarating, the birds sang so 
gayly, and all nature seemed so blithe and happy, 
that I, too, took wing, and flew, rather than 
walked, this way and that, unheeding, in truth 
not caring, where the lovely crooked ways led 
me ; until suddenly I came upon a small cottage 
by the roadside. It w\as nestled just under the 
hill, and was a very bird's-nest for coziness. I 
came upon it from the rear, through a garden all 
aglow Avith red roses and carnation-pinks, and had 
almost walked into the house before I realized 
what I was doing. The door stood open, and 
looking out at me amazed, as well they might be, 
were a pair of large brown eyes. So earnest and 
beseeching was their gaze that I stood spell-bound, 
like one dazed or in a dream. The owner of these 
marvellous eyes was a young girl who seemed an 



60 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

invalid, as she reclined on a lounge beside which 
the small supper-table was placed. Another lady 
sat at the table with her back toward me. A look 
or low-spoken word from the sick girl directed 
this lady's attention to me, and she came out and 
invited me in to rest. I didn't care to rest, but I 
did care to learn something of this brown-eyed 
beauty who seemed sick and sad. But no, I 
think I am wrong there ; her eyes only had a 
wistful look, as if asking, pleading for some- 
thing they dared not hope to gain ; but her 
voice was cheerful and her laugh free and joy- 
ous. Yet she suffers a great deal, and has been 
for years confined to her lounge by some affection 
of the spine. Mamma, I think you made a mis- 
take in writing your novel before I discovered 
this lovely heroine." 

Emeline responded — 

"By the way, Kate, did I tell you of ^My lord' 
and his mother whom we met last summer in 
Switzerland ? We talked with them upon several 
occasions, yet did not learn tlieir name or the 
land of their nativity. I thought them Ameri- 
cans from their manners and speech, but Alice 
insisted that they were English. She imagined 
him to be an English lord, Hhe last of his race,' 
and that, she thought, accounted for their deep 
mourning and great dejection." 

"No," I answered, while a vague suspicion 



FOOD AND FANCY. 61 

crossed my mind, "you have never spoken of 
them to me, but I am interested. Describe them 
more fully. What Avere they like in personal 
appearance ? " 

" Very much like each other,' both having the 
same dark, deep eyes — eyes that remind you of 
bottomless wells of pure water, with shadows 
lingering about them hinting of sunshine. He 
was twenty-live or thirty years of age, and she 
old enough to be his mother. His hair was dark, 
and rippled or waved back from his forehead, 
while hers was so white that it reminded one of 
a fleecy cloud floating about her foce." 

"Was she slightly lame?^' I asked. 

"Yes," answered Emeline ; "how came you to 
guess that grace belonged to her ? " 

" Perhaj)s my question was the ofi'spring of your 
remembrance," I answered, evasively. "And Alice 
thought him a hero, did she? And in her visions 
of romance she has no doubt visited his ancestral 
home, his lordly domain? How is it, my dear, 
do you dream of him still ? " 

A rosy flush swept over her fair face as she 
answered : 

"Indeed, Cousin Kate, I never dreamed of him 
but once in my life, and that was the first night I 
slept in this house. You remember it was after 
dark when we arrived, and to me it did seem a 
little weird and dismal for three lone women to 



62 COOiaNG AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

take possession of a roomy old mansion like this, 
and although I wouldn't own it then, I was nerv- 
ous and fidgety, starting at every sound all the 
evening. That I should dream strange dreams 
that night was a matter of course." 

" But I never heard you mention this fact be- 
fore, Alice," said her mother. "Pray tell us this 
strange dream." 

"I would rather not," said Alice, blushing more 
deeply, " lest you think me a silly girl, and vain 
as foolish." 

By this time Alice had really aroused our curi- 
osity, and Cousin Emeline and I both protested 
that dreams were only dreams, and that we should 
not think of attaching any imj)ortance whatever to 
hers. Finally, we induced her to tell us her 
dream, in which she said she rehearsed the scene 
of our arrival at Maple wood, with this variation: 
she had lost sight of her mother and me, and 
entered the wide, gloomy hall alone. As she 
stepped timidly forward, she heard the great door 
close with a clang behind her, shutting her, like a 
prisoner, within. A wild terror seized her, and 
she was about to cry out for help, when a voice of 
exceeding sweetness said gently, " Welcome home, 
my darling." "I knew the voice," said Alice, 
'and looking up, beheld 'My lord' descending 
the hall stair. But the curious part of the dream 
was that he bore in his arms a beautiful child, 
laughing and crowing with delight." 



FOOD AND FANCY. 63 

"Could that have been the boy Cupicl, I won- 
der?" said I, teasingly; but Emeline seemed 
interested, and asked, 

" What happened next, Alice ? What did 3^ou 
say or do ? " 

" I guess I ran away, for I remember no more." 

A few days after this conversation, I stood by 
a table in the large old kitchen beside Alice, who 
was earnestly engaged writing out my recipe for 
buns. The summer breeze played idly with her 
brown curls, while the delicious odor of the 
freshly-l)aked buns, mingled with that of the wild- 
rose and honeysuckle, making a confusion of 
sweet perfumes. At length, laying down the pen, 
she said, 

" Cousin Kate, I want to take some of these airy 
things (the buns) to tTessie ?Tames this evening, 
with a basket of the brightest, sweetest strawber- 
ries Mike can find in the garden. May I?" 

I bowed assent, and she went on, 

"Jessie knows all about your friends, the Doug- 
lases, and has promised to tell me about his beau- 
tiful young wife, whose sudden death almost broke 
the heart of her husband." 

Looking up from my work, I said, 

" Whose beautiful young wife ? What are you 
talkins: about, Alice ? " 

" About Gerald Douglas, whose wife died so 
suddenly just before they went abroad. Jessie 



64 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

says that was the reason of their going, and that 
his mother is devoted to him, and Avould go with 
him to the ends of the earth, if he desired." 

"Very likely," I replied ; " most mothers would 
do the same." 

" But why, Cousin Kate, did you never tell me 
of this only son of your old friend ? " 

" Why, bless me, child, when and why, pray, 
should I have told you the history of this particu- 
lar young man ? Have you not been for years 
abroad, and before that, close shut within the walls 
of the '■ Sacred Heart,' conning your lessons ever 
since you were a child? Never, until now, Alice, 
did I realize what a fearful responsibility rests 
upon a maiden lady whose old friend and school- 
mate happens to have a terrible only son. Ah, 
woe is me ! " 

"Now Cousin Kate, please don't laugh at me, 
but shut up here Avith ouly your cook-book and 
mamma's novel to think about, is it strange that I 
like to hear Jessie tell of these people? Indeed, 
I think it would be very ungrateful not to be 
interested in them, since we've taken possession of 
their beautiful home and all their lovely things, 
just as if they belonged to us. Jessie saj^s that 
the family portraits are in the drawing-room, and 
that the suite of rooms in the north wing belonged 
to his wife, and were fitted up according to her 
taste when she came here a bride ; and that they 



FOOD AND FANCY. 65 

are kept just as she left them. Would you mind 
asking Susannah to show them to us some time, 
Avhen she opens to air and dust them ; or do you 
think she would object?" 

" Oh, no ! Susannah will be only too glad to 
show you all her treasures, and I will ask her 
some day. But we must give some attention to 
the realities of the culinary department before we 
wander into the fields of romance." 



66 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING, 



CHAPTER V. 

GRIDDLE-CAKES AND OTHER THINGS. 

"Kate, I wonder if we shall be permitted to go 
on in this quiet, restful way all summer? I never 
enjoyed anything so much ; but am all the while 
haunted by the fear that some prowling interloper 
will discover our retreat. Do you not think Alice 
wanders about too unguardedly, and is making 
too many acquaintances ? " 

I had barely time to respond "Nonsense, Eme- 
line," when the little silver bell tinkled a summons 
to breakfjist. Leaving the roses ungathered, we 
went in, to tind a vase of them already upon the 
breakfast-table, mingling their sweet odors with 
those of more substantial things . 

When Alice, Avith a little air of pride, passed 
the cakes to me — such perfectly formed, dainty- 
lookinsr thinsfs — the sig-ht of them somehow called 
from their graves a spectral army of ghostly cakes, 
the cakes of other days, and of less careful cooks 
than our charming Alice. Haunted by their mem- 
ory, I said to Emeline, "What an abomination 
the griddle is in most houses, filling them with 
stifling atmospheres and unsavory odors. And 



GRIDDLE-CAKES AND OTHER THINGS. 67 

yet it is easy to avoid both smoke and smell. 
Cakes may be baked in the kitchen, and no one 
up-stairs be wiser or sadder therefor, if the cook 
knows how to tend the griddle. But if she floods 
it with grease, which is allowed to burn before 
the cakes are placed upon it, not only is the house 
filled with smoke, but the cakes are blackened, 
and to a great extent spoiled, coming to the taljle 
with lacerated edges, bruised and torn, in their 
fierce conflict with fat and fire. Many cooks seem 
to take a special delight in causing the smoke of 
their torment, the griddle, to ascend unceasingly ; 
and to this end they deluge it with grease, wdiich, 
by the time it is filled with cakes, has been 
crowded close to the edges, where it hisses and 
bubbles, sputtering angrily all through the baking. 
Here and there on the griddle are drops of batter, 
impromptu little cakes undesigned by the cook, 
to which she pays no heed, unless, when lifting 
their more important kindred, she gives them an 
impatient push into the gutter of grease at the 
edge of the griddle, where they fry and burn 
uncared for. Sometimes it happens that these 
vagrants, black and dismal as they appear, are 
caught up accidentally and mixed with the cakes 
sent to the table. But oftener they are pushed 
ofl" the griddle upon the range, where their illegit- 
imate lives end in smoke." 

"But, Kate, how is this nuisance to be pre- 
vented?" 



68 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

"By using a suitable greaser in a proper man- 
ner. A good greaser may be made of pure lard 
placed just where it is required, by means of a linen 
swab, fastened to the end of a stick fashioned for 
the purpose ; but the best greaser is a piece of fat 
pork, two inches square and an inch thick, with 
tiie rind covering one of its broadest surfaces. 
Slip this piece of pork on a fork in such a manner 
as to bring the tines of the fork close to the rind, 
leaving the greaser below. With this rub the 
griddle where the cakes are to be placed, wiping 
it well with a dry cloth after each baking. A 
griddle so treated will annoy no one, not even the 
cook, with smoke. Griddles and bread-pans 
should be used for nothing but the purpose for 
which the}^ are specially designed, and should 
very rarely be washed Avith soap. If kept clean, 
they need little washing at any time, as a brisk 
rubbing with a diy cloth when they are warm is 
all-sufficient, and keeps them in more perfect con- 
dition than frequent washing." 

"Using soapstone, and other griddles which 
require no gi'ease, is the most sensible way of 
abating the griddle nuisance, I think," said Eme- 
line. 

" No doubt you are right," I replied. " Still, 
there are people who will cling to the old ways, 
notwithstanding the new have been proven to be 
best." 



GRIDDLE-a\KES AND OTHER THINGS. 69 

" Buckwheat-cakes are perhaps more universally 
eaten in this country than any other kind, and at 
the same time are more invariably and unmitigat- 
cdly bad. A mean buckwheat-cake suggests the 
idea of total depravity in cakes. Imagine a 
(Jiiristian gentleman breakfasting on those tawny, 
leaden things, — leathery, gritty, sour, and half 
raw. In eating them, he forfeits a good share of 
self-respect, and goes his way after breakfast with 
a heavy heart in his bosom and a bitter taste in his 
mouth. If he did not know he was the victim of 
buckwheat-cakes he would be morally certain the 
whole world was against him, and his best friend 
had become his worst enemy. 

"A buckwheat-cake at its best is certainly queen 
of the griddle, a very princess among cakes, — 
light, brown, crisp. It has no ragged edge, no 
tawny, leaden-gray color, streaked with black. 
Sour? Why, the smoke of it is as grateful as 
sweet incense. You pat it tenderly with your 
knife, then spread it daintily with the sweet butter 
waiting to be gracious, adding syrup just to make 
the honeycomb illusion complete. I never knew 
a man after breakfasting on such cakes to contem- 
plate suicide, or grumble even if his wife asked 
him for money." 

Here Emeline interrupted me w^ith, — 
"Kate, why don't you have Alice keep pencil 
and paper at hand to jot down such little ira- 



70 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

promptu speeches for your cook-book ? My opin- 
ion is that some of the best thoughts and choicest 
sayings of writers never get into their books. 
They come and go, with the passing moment of 
inspiration, known only to the fortunate few who 
happen to be at table, or in the drawing-room. 
But are you aware, that at the beginning of break- 
fast I asked you what kind of cakes these are that 
we are eatinir?" 

" Is it possible you don't know ? " 

"All things are possible, it seems, when you and 
Alice ]Dlay your witcheries in the kitchen ; but, 
although I'm not sure, I think they are rice-cakes. 
Rice-cakes are my favorite cakes, and these are 
certainly very nice." 

Here Alice's musical laugh rippled into the 
conversation with, — 

"Rice-cakes, indeed, mamma; you ought to 
have seen the stale old bread that went to make 
up these little brown beauties." 

Emeline answered with indignation, not unmixed 
with disgust, — 

"Bread-cakes, Alice, are my particular detesta- 
tion, — soft, sticky, and disagreeable." 

" Oh fie, mamma ! how shocking ! But I hasten 
to heap coals of fire on your head, by giving you 
the exact recipe, for these delicate, delicious 
cakes : Pour over a pint of bread-crumbs, the 
same measure of boilino: milk. If the milk has 



GRIDDLE-CAKES AND OTHER THINGS. 71 

been skimmed, a small piece of butter must be 
added. Cover closely, and let stand over night. 
In the morning mash to a smooth paste, and beat 
thoroughly with it the yolks of two eggs. Then 
gradually add half a pint of cold milk, beating 
meanwhile, and half a pint of flour with which a 
measure of baking-powder has been sifted. Lastly, 
add the wdiites of the eggs, beaten to a stiff froth. 
These cakes require longer baking than batter- 
cakes, and should be baked of a small size, as they 
are tender and easily torn, and, when served, 
should be spread over the plate, and not piled one 
upon the other." 

"Kice-cakes, Alice, maybe made in the same 
manner as bread-cakes, substituting well-boiled 
rice for bread-crumbs." 

"And how are waffles made. Cousin Kate?" 
asked Alice. 

" This is an excellent recipe for a simple raised 
waffle : One quart of milk, one ounce of butter, 
three pints of flour, and half a gill of yeast. Let 
rise over night. In making waffles, or batter- 
cakes that rise over night, I think it best to heat 
the milk to boiling point, adding to it, while hot, 
the butter or lard to be used. When cool enousfh 
to not scald the flour, add that ; then the eggs, 
Avell beaten ; and lastly the yeast. Give all a 
thorough beating. As soon in the morning as con- 
venient, give the batter a good beating. This 



72 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

will add to the lightness and excellence of the 
cakes. 

"The proportion of three pints of flour to a 
quart of milk, which you see is a measure and a 
half of flour to a measure of milk, I find to be the 
average proportions required in all kinds of batter- 
cakes ; but the exact quantity of flour ijiust be 
determined by the number of eggs and the amount 
of butter used. Where many eggs are used, less 
flour is needed, unless a great quantity of butter 
or lard, also, is used. 

"Now, I will give you two more recipes for 
waffles, both excellent, which illustrate my mean- 
ing : One quart of milk, three pints of flour, four 
ounces of lard, four ounces of butter, six eggs, 
half a gill of yeast. In this recipe I should make 
no deduction of flour on account of the eggs used, 
because of the quantity of butter and lard. But 
in this : One quart of milk, three pints of flour, 
four esrars, and four ounces of butter, I should 
take light measure of flour. Flour should always 
be sifted before it is measured, and the measure 
should not be heaped. These last waffles are very 
nice, and are made in this manner : Add the flour 
to the cold milk, and beat thoroughly. Melt the 
butter, and add by degrees. Separate the eggs, 
adding one yolk at a time, and beating it thor- 
oughly into the batter, before adding another. 
Lastly, add the whites, beaten to a stifi* froth. 



GRIDDLE-CAKES AND OTHER THIXGS. 73 

Bake immediately. If well beaten, these are good 
either as waffles or griddle-cakes. This recipe is 
also very nice when made over night, and raised 
with a gill of yeast. In that case, add butter and 
eggs in the morning. And you can also vary, by 
sometimes using baking-powder. As a general 
rule, in making all kinds of batter-cakes, beat the 
yolks of the eggs with the batter, and the whites 
separately, adding them last. 

" Here is a flannel-cake that is simple, but very 
nice. Take equal portions of fine corn meal and 
wheat-flour. To a quart of w^arm water add three 
pints of meal and flour mixed, a pinch of salt, and 
half a gill of yeast. Let rise over night. 

"For mufiins, take a quart of milk, two quarts 
of flour, and a measure of baking-powder. Beat 
all thoroughl}^ together, and bake in muffin-rings, 
or pufi'-pans, in a quick oven. 

" The varieties of waffles, griddle-cakes, muf- 
fins, etc., are very numerous. But any one know- 
ing how to make a few, can, without a cook-book, 
find out, by a little reflection, hoAv to make num- 
berless others." 

"But Kate," said Emeline, "I wish to know 
how those queenly buck^vheat cakes are made. 
Most housekeepers have difficulty with their 
* buckwheats.' They are either too thick or too 
thin ; and when not actually sour, have a strong, 
rank taste. I have never found in anv cook-book 



74 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

the proportions of flour and water to be used in 
making buckwheat cakes. This important item 
is left to the judgment or discretion of the cook. 
Do you know the exact proportions ? " 

" My favorite buckwheat cakes are made in this 
manner : Make two quarts of gruel, by adding 
to two quarts of boiling water half a pint of corn 
meal, wet with a little cold water ; boil well. 
Then cool to lukewarmness and add half a pint of 
wheat flour, three pints of buckwheat flour, one 
gill of yeast, and salt to taste. Set in a mod- 
erately warm place until perfectly light. 

" Buckwheat cakes should be set to rise at noon, 
for the next morning, and by eight or nine 
o'clock they will be light, when they should be 
well beaten and set in a cool place through the 
night. 

" Just before baking, add a little soda if needed, 
and thin by adding a little warm water if neces- 
sary." 

"I observe," said Alice, "that in these buck- 
wheat cakes which have no eggs, you use only 
a measure of flour to a measure of water, while 
in wheat flour cakes, you use a measure and 
a half of flour. Why is that ? " 

" The nature of the grain is different ; buckwheat 
swells more than wheat ; but it is always difficult 
to get the exact proportions required by measure- 
ment ; for different grades of flour require diflfer- 



GRIDDLE-CAKES AND OTHER THINGS. 75 

ent proportions of water for the same thickness 
of batter ; and I find that in all ])atter cakes and 
muffins raised with yeast it is better to stir them 
a little too thick than too thin ; for just before 
baking they can be made thinner without injuring 
their quality ; whereas, if you thicken by adding 
more flour, it destroys somewhat of their light- 
ness." 

" I think, Kate," observed Emetine, " there is 
one serious objection to your method of making 
buckwheat cakes. The average cook won't take 
the trouble to make gruel for her buckwheat 
cakes." 

"I know," I replied, "that women hate to be 
painstaking about these things ; and I have a friend, 
an admirable housekeeper, who insists that her 
buckwheat cakes are just as good as mine ; and her 
method is much simpler. She sets her cakes to 
rise the first thing after breakfast, using only cold 
water, buckwheat flour, yeast, and a little salt. 

" She sets them to rise on a table in the kitchen, 
or some moderately warm room, and next morn- 
ing thins them with a little warm milk or water, 
adding a little soda if necessary. After first 
starting her cakes, she never adds fresh yeast, 
but uses the batter left ; to which she adds flour 
and water enousrh for the next mornins:. In 
my cook-book. Emetine," I went on to say, "I 
mean to make very emphatic this idea ; that 



76 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

however cooks may make buckwheat cakes, they 
must be careful to give them abundant time to 
thoroughly ferment and rise ; for. I think a great 
many buckwheat cakes are baked before they have 
risen to their best estate." 

"Kate, do you know how to make good corn- 
bread?" asked Emeline. "I am especially fond 
of it. But I am so heartily sick of ' Indian bread,' 
and ^ Indian cakes,' as IN^orthern and Eastern cooks 
persist in calling the wretched preparations of 
corn meal they manufacture, that I hope you will 
devote a chapter of your book to the considera- 
tion of corn-bread." 

"Thank you, Emeline, for the suggestion. 
Corn-bread being a Southern institution or spe- 
cialty, is very much neglected by Northern and 
Southern cooks ; or, when made by them, is so 
* doctored,' as a general rule, that a genuine lover 
of the article scarcely recognizes it in the vile 
mixture of grease, soda, eggs, milk, and sugar, 
thickened with poor corn meal ground so fine as 
to be destitute of character or sweetness. South- 
ern corn is as much superior to that grown at the 
North, as a Hubbard squash is to a yellow 
pumpkin ; but Southern corn, ground as fine as 
the meal that is generally used at the North, loses 
much of its excellence. Southern cooks undoubt- 
edly excel in the art of making corn-bread of 
various kinds, among which the pone and hoe- 



GRIDDLE-CAKES AND OTHER THINGS. 77 

cake used to take first rank. But since open fires, 
Dutch ovens, and bake-kettles, have been super- 
seded by ranges and cooking-stoves, pone and 
hoe-cake have been superseded by ' dodgers,' and 
other varieties of corn-bread, baked upon the 
griddle, or in the oven, as convenience dictates. 
The pone, in the old time, was made of meal, 
warm water, yeast, and a little salt ; and after 
becoming light by fermentation, was baked,-*- a 
large loaf, in a Dutch oven, for five or six hours. 
The hoe-cake was still more simple, being corn 
meal mixed with warm water and a little salt, into 
a stifi" dough, fashioned by the hands into cakes 
an inch thick, and baked on a board, tilted before 
the fire, or, in the negro cabins, upon the hoe, 
which no doubt gave it the name. The dodger is 
a legitimate descendant of the hoe-cake, and I 
think deserves precedence in the corn-bread ranks. 
To make it, take a quart of corn meal, a teaspoon- 
ful of sugar, and a salt-spoonful of salt. Scald 
with boiling water, leaving the paste so thick that 
when moulded into cakes in the hand it retains its 
form, or if placed upon the griddle with a spoon, 
will remain heaped and not spread into thin cakes. 
Put a piece of butter, half the size of a pea, just 
where the dodger is to be placed on the griddle, 
and when melted, lay the cake upon it. In like 
manner fill the griddle. When brown, turn them 
over ; but just before turning, place a small bit 



78 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

of butter on each cake, and when turned, press it 
gently in the centre to flatten the rounded surface, 
and bring the cake close to the griddle at the 
edsres. These cakes should be an inch thick ; and 
they require half an hour to bake, The heat 
must, of course, be moderate, and the cakes may 
be turned several times if necessary. After being 
turned .on the griddle and browned on both sides, 
they can be transferred to a pan and a hot oven, 
to finish baking ; or they can be baked altogether 
in a hot oven, if desirable. Although these dodg- 
ers are very good baked in this manner for only 
thirty or forty minutes, they are much better 
when baked a longer time. An hour's baking in 
a moderate oven gives them a crisp sweetness, 
quite irresistible to lovers of corn-bread; and 
when properly made and baked, they are such 
delicious l^reakfast-cakes that I do not wonder one 
accustomed to them, turns in disgust from the 
messes often presented under the name of corn- 
bread, in which grease and soda bear so promi- 
nent a part, that the stuff smells and tastes like 
soap, 

" Corn-muffins are very fine, made in this way : 
To a quart of corn meal add an ounce of butter, 
a teaspoonful of sugar, and a salt-spoonful of salt. 
Scald with boiling water, pouring the water on 
slowly, and stirring the mixture until all the meal 
is moistened. When cool, add the yolks of three 



GRIDDLE-CAKES AND OTHER THINGS. 79 

eggs, and beat well through the dough ; then add 
cold, sweet milk, a small portion at a time, beat- 
ing thoroughly, until the batter is of proper thick- 
ness. Beat the whites to a stiff froth, and add 
half at a time, alternating with a measure of bak- 
ing-poAvder mixed with a small quantity of meal. 
Bake in muffin-rings, gem cups, or shallow pans, 
in a quick oven. Made a little thinner, this bat- 
ter may be baked upon the griddle as thin griddle- 
cakes, — although the Southern griddle-cakes, or 
*slappers,' as the colored people call them, are 
made in a somewhat different manner. I stood by 
Aunt Nancy, a colored woman, who made them 
deliciously, and saw just how she did it. She put 
a quart of meal in a bowl, and in the centre made 
a nest or hole, into which she dropped a lump of 
lard as large as a hickory nut, a pinch of salt, and 
a small teaspoonful of sugar. Then she poured 
boiling water on slowl}^ stirring the meal until all 
was moistened, when, pressing it compactly 
together in the bottom of the bowl, she * lef it to 
swell, honey,' while she brought out the griddle 
and greaser, and got things ready for the baking. 
This done, she returned to the cakes, and having 
ascertained that the dough was not too warm, she 
broke into it three eggs, stirring them briskly, with 
a spoonful or two of cold milk, through the dough. 
From time to time she added cold milk in small 



80 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

quantities, continuing the stirring until the batter 
was quite thin, when she announced, — 

" 'Dem's done ready, now, miss.' " 

" * But you've forgotten the soda, Aunt Nancy,'" 
I said. 

"'Forgot de sody,' she repeated, with infinite 
disgust, ' what for should I go spile dem slappers 
with sody?'" 

"In answer to my question why she didn't beat 
the eggs before she put them in the batter, she 
said emphatically, ' Better dis yere way, honey. 
You take my 'vice, and don't go trying* no 'speri- 
nients wid dese yere slappers.' I did, however, 
try the experiment of beating the eggs separately, 
after which I agreed with Aunt Nancy that they 
were better ' dis yere way.' 

" This same ' slapper ' batter, left a little stiffer, 
baked in the oven in shallow pans, cut in squares 
and served hot, is a very fine specimen of corn- 
bread, sometimes called Cape May bread." 

" Cousin Kate, do you know why the * slappers ' 
are better for having the eggs beaten only in and 
with the batter?" 

"I think I do. But I don't mean to tell you, 
Alice, for the reason that I wish you to solve 
those riddles yourself, the reading of which re- 
quires onl}'' a little mild thinking." 

" Speaking of riddles, reminds me of some- 
thing," said Alice, "I intended mentioning to 



GKIDDLE-CAKES AND OTHER THINGS. 81 

you half an hour ago. Have you or ma seen the 
absurd article in the ' Democrat ' ? " 

"No," exclaimed both Emeline and myself, in- 
voluntarily. 

"Then listen to this," was Alice's reply, as she 
unfolded the Westfield "Democrat," and read to 
us the following : — 

"About Ghosts. — For some weeks it has been 
the current report that ghostly visitants have 
taken possession of the Douglas mansion, which 
is in charge of the gardener during the absence of 
the family, and hold private seances there, on 
which occasions they materialize or assume the 
forms they wore while tarrying in this mundane 
sphere in years gone by. Although we have but 
little faith in either the ghosts or the reports, 
many of our readers appear to be deeply inter- 
ested in both, and wish us to give them all the 
information that can be obtained upon the subject. 
We have therefore detailed a special reporter, in 
whom we have the utmost confidence, to work up 
the case, and give us the benefit of his investiga- 
tions, and we hope shortly to lay before the read- 
ers of the ' Democrat,' a full account of the ghosts 
and their doings. Our reporter has been on duty 
several days, but has not as yet made much 
progress. The gardener, he says, * doesn't inter- 
view worth a cent,' and he adds, very emphatically, 



82 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

'the old fellow's wife is more secretive than a 
clam.' He is busily engaged reading up on the 
literature of ' spooks,' and hobgoblins generally, 
so as to be equal to the emergency, and fully pre- 
pared to tackle any sort of a ghost that may pre- 
sent itself. The facts he has gathered are very 
few and unsatisfactory, but we have high hopes of 
his giving us something racy in a short time, for 
he is willing to swear that he has had frequent 
glimpses of a creature, not of the earth earthy, 
flittinsr about the fi^arden and veranda in the twi- 
light, with hair floating about her shoulders, and 
dressed in the traditional white robes that ghosts 
are said to assume when they appear to mortal 
eyes." 



BREAKFAST-TABLE GOSSIP. 83 



CHAPTEE YI. 

BREAKFAST-TABLE GOSSIP. 

"Kate, do I understand you to say that this 
coffee, which is so perfectly clear, has nothing 
used for settling it, but a spoonful of cold water?" 

As I took the coffee she handed me, I answered, 
"At the time of making, nothing but water is 
added to the coffee ; but at the time of browning, 
one egg is mixed with a pound of coffee. Coffee 
can be settled perfectly with a spoonful of cold 
water ; but it stays settled better, and is not so 
easily disturbed or roiled, where egg is used. A 
cup of first-rate coffee, Emeline, is something 
rarely found on the average American table ; nor 
is it surprising, perhaps, when we consider that 
making coffee is a delicate matter, and that the 
beverage is so easily spoiled, at any point from 
the beginning to the end of the process. Sev- 
eral things are requisite in order to have good 
coffee. First, the coffee must be of good quality-, 
carefully picked over, and cleaned by rubbing in 
a dry towel. Next, it must be properl}^ roasted. 
There are very perfect mechanisms for browning 
coffee ; but any woman can roast it perfectly in the 



84 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUHiDrnG. 

oven, if she attends to it. In a medium-sized 
dripping-pan a pound can be roasted at a time. 
The person roasting the coffee should give it her 
undivided attention while it is in the oven, other- 
wise she will often forget, and the coffee be 
spoiled. Coffee should roast slowly at first, an 
occasional shaking to change the position of the 
grains being all the attention it requires. After 
remaining ten or fifteen minutes in the oven, the 
heat may be increased, and the shaking must be 
done more frequently. Towards the last it must 
be looked at every few minutes, lest unawares it 
surprise you with too dark a browning. But how 
brown it should be, depends somewhat upon the 
taste of the drinker and the kind of coffee used. 
Eio will bear a browner tinge than Java. If the 
coffee, when made, is pale in color, and tastes of 
the bean, — that is, has a raw taste, — it is not suffi- 
ciently roasted. If it is black, and tastes bitter 
and burnt, it is overdone. It is a good plan to 
keep a spoonful of coffee unground, from one 
roasting till the next, in order to compare the 
newly roasted with it. When the coffee is roasted, 
pour it into an earthen dish to cool ; and when so 
cool that you can clasp a handful of it tightly in 
your palm and feel it only warm — not hot — add 
to it a fresh egg, and with a fork stir it until per- 
fectly mixed and each kernel has a share of the 
egg. The warmth of the coffee should be just 



BREAKFAST-TABLE GOSSIP. 85 

sufficient to dry the egg adliering to it, and not 
cook it. When diy, the egg does not interfere 
with the irrindinff. Eofff used in this manner is 
neither so troublesome nor expensive as when 
added at the time of making the coffee. Another 
convenient, inexpensive method is to wash eggs 
before breaking, and preserve the shells for set- 
tling coffee. 

"The grinding of coffee is an important consid- 
eration. If ground very coarse, much of the 
strength remains in the grounds, some of which 
are often seen floating about in your cup, in an 
independent manner, and an isolated condition. 
If ground too fine, it will be muddy in spite of 
everything. Of course a happy medium is right. 
Some ladies have coffee prepared in one pot and 
poured into another before sending to tal3le ; but 
this is a bad practice, for every time coffee is 
exposed to the air it loses some of its aroma and 
excellence. When I have a fragrant perfume of 
coffee in my chamber while dressing, I take it for 
granted that I shall miss at breakfast the delicious 
aroma that has been so freely exhaled all over the 
house. If it is borne to me on the wings of the 
morning up three flights of stairs, how can I hope 
to find it concentrated in my cup at breakfast? 
Really excellent coffee can be made in various ways. 
The most perfect method of making it, perhaps, is 
by dripping the boiling water through the coffee. 



S6 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

But rare coffee may be made in the ordinary manner 
of steeping, if it is not allowed to boil enough to 
extract the bitter, or waste the aroma. There is 
one thing you must insist upon, Cousin Emeline, 
if you would have the best quality of coffee and 
tea ; namely, the pots must be kept clean on the in- 
side. If carefully washed every time they are 
used, they wdll not become dark and coated Avith 
deposits. Coffee made very strong, and diluted 
with boiled milk instead of water, is liked by 
many. That is a French style worthy of imita- 
tion. Mixed coffees are also considered by many 
finer in flavor than a single sort. I have tried 
various combinations, and like Rio and Java in 
equal proportions — or two parts Eio, two parts 
Java, and one part Mocha. To be most perfect, 
I think the different kinds should be roasted sep- 
arately, and mixed afterAvard. But my advice to 
housekeepers is, experiment. Find out for your- 
selves what is best, and don't believe implicitly in 
any cook-book, not even Cousin Kate's. Use 
cook-books as helps, as hints, but not as infallible 
guides, and Avork out your salvation in cookery 
by the use of your OAvn brains. A week's supply 
of coffee may be broAvned and ground at one time, 
if it is kept in air-tight cans or canisters. 

"Most cooks use too little coffee. I allow a 
large tablespoon heaping full of ground coffee to a 
medium-sized cup and a half of water. Measure 



BREAKFAST-TABLE GOSSIP. 87 

the coffee, and add to it a fresh egg, well beaten — 
unless esfs: has been mixed with it at the time of 
browning — and cold water enough to w^et the 
whole. Beat it well together and, placing in the 
pot, add cold water till the pot is a third full. 
Set it where it will steep slowly, stirring it from 
time to time. Watch it closely, and as soon as it 
is about to boil, add more cold water. Keep 
adding cold water from time to time, just before 
the boiling takes place, until the pot is full. 
Then let it boil up once, settle, and serve." 

" But supposing," said Alice, "that you didn't 
want a pot full of coffee, and that filling the pot 
would make it too weak, would you still fill the 
pot?" 

" By no means," I replied. " But I would have 
the coffee-pot the size required, for you can't make 
a pint of coffee in a quart pot, and have it of per- 
fect quality. If there is more room in the pot 
than is required, air fills the space and deteriorates 
the quality of the coffee. Beside, a pint of coffee 
tumbling about in a two-quart pot is sure to be 
unsettled in pouring. Alice, not long since I 
made coffee for a young gentleman, who, w^hen 
asked if it was good, answered, — and his voice 
and fiice w^ere very grave and serious, — 'It is 
simply divine.'" 

"O Cousin Kate ! " laughingly exclaimed Alice ; 
"I tremble when I think of the possible conse- 



SS COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

quences of your having made such a cup of coffee, 
had that young man been twenty years older." 

"Or Cousin Kate twenty years younger," I 
rejoined. "But, nonsense aside, Alice, I'm 
sure you would like to know just how that 
coffee was made. It was mixed coffee — two 
parts Eio, two parts Java, and one part Mocha, 
all of the best quality. In strength, it was 
made in the proportion of three heaping table- 
spoonfuls of coffee to one and a half cups of 
water. That, you see, is three times as strong as 
the directions just given. It was made with cold 
water, carefully steeped, and perfectly settled, 
and, before pouring, the cup was two-thirds filled 
with boiled milk, and then filled with the strong 
coffee ; which made, in the estimation of that 
young man, a ^ draught fit for the gods.' 

"In boiling milk for coffee, Alice, do not let it 
actually boil, but let it come just as near boiling 
as possible and escape it, for it must be very hot. 
But the flavor is finer in coffee if it is taken after 
it is so heated as to be inflated with fine bubbles, 
but not actually boiled. With a milk-boiler this 
is easily managed ; for, just at the right moment, 
it can be set back and kept hot for a long time." 

While we were loitering over breakfast, discuss- 
ing the merits of coffee, Tom, the gardener's son, 
brought us the morning mail. Among various 
and sundry letters, postal-cards, etc., I found the 



BREAKFAST-TAJ5LE GOSSIP. 89 

following missives, the first from an old bachelor 
cousin of mine, and the other from an intimate 
lady friend. The old bachelor, who is very ab- 
stemious in his habits, and exceedingly fond of 
English breakfast tea and dry toast, wrote : — 

" When do you expect to find leisure for that 
long-promised cook-book? I do hope you will 
write it soon, and will give such minute directions 
in it for making both tea and toast, that no one 
can fail to understand them. Strange as it may 
seem, our best cook-books are ominously silent, 
or hopelessly bewildering, about the methods of 
making either ; and I pray you to step to the 
front, and furnish the much-needed information. 
It would appear, at first blush, as if any one might 
make good tea or good toast without instruction ; 
yet it is a singular fact, that at the average table 
one is about as great a rarity as the other. I con- 
fess to a weakness for Uhe cup that cheers but 
does not inebriate,' for, to my taste, no other bev- 
erage is so delicious as well-made tea ; but for the 
sloppy, bitter, or smoky-tasting decoctions that are 
foisted upon us at hotels, restaurants, and private 
houses, under that name, I have the most inefiable 
contempt. It is an insult to any decent stomach to 
force into it the wretched slops so barbarously 
extracted from the Chinese herb. I write feel- 
ingly on this subject, for it has been my privilege 
to drink tea properly made, and fragrant memo- 



90 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

ries of the delicious flavor linger with nic, ellect- 
iially spoiling my relish for the common, vile 
decoction. 

" As for dry toast, I dare say no woman w^ould 
be willing to confess she did not know how to 
toast bread ; yet my experience is, that good toast 
is the exception. Bad bread, scorched or burned, 
and sent to the table cold and tough, is as unin- 
viting a dish as can be served ; while a, plate of 
crisp, hot toast, properly prepared, is more appe- 
tizing and tempting to the average man than the 
danticst of hot cakes or muifins. Give me a cup 
of nice coflce or tea, with a plate of crisp, richly- 
browned toast, and firm, golden butter, for my 
morning or evening meal, and I wdll be content 
with ayiy relish you choose to add — even chipped 
beef; or I will be satisfied with tea and toast 
alone, if both are at their level best. 

" Do make haste and enlighten the world about 
tea and toast. For so doing, you will deserve its 
everlasting gratitude, and shall have, at least, that 
of Cousin John." 

" Poor John ! it is too bad that a folorn old 
bachelor can't have the small comfort to be found 
in tea and toast," observed Emeline, as I finished 
reading the letter. " I hope you will comply with 
his requests. Your toast is always perfection 
itself, and I think even Cousin John would be 
quite satisfied with the English breakfast tea you 



BREAKFAST-TABLE GOSSIP. 91 

give US here, Kate ; for I never drank finer, even 
in England. How long do you boil it, and how 
do you manage always to liaA'e it just right ? " 

" I do not boil it at all. And following precisely 
the same method of makhig every time, why 
should the quality of the tea vary ? I think it 
would be safer for a careless, inattentive cook to 
boil the tea, if it did not boil more than a minute, 
for to make it without boiling, three requisites 
must be faithfully observed. The pot must be as 
hot, when the tea is put into it, as boiling water 
can make it. The water must be boiling when 
poured upon the tea, and the tea must stand, 
before being poured, from five to ten minutes. 
This is the recipe I shall give for making English 
breakfast tea : Ten or fifteen minutes before mak- 
ing the tea, fill the teapot with boiling water, and 
the tea-kettle with cold water, freshly drawn. It 
makes a vast difference with the quality of the tea 
whether it is made of water freshly boiled or of 
stale water that has stood in the kettle and been 
re-boiled, until all the sparkle and life have gone 
out of it. As soon as the kettle boils, empty the 
tea-pot, rinsing it with boiling water. Put into it 
a heaping teaspoonful of tea to each person, allow- 
ing a cup and a half of water to the same. Cover 
closely, letting it stand from five to ten minutes 
before pouring. Cream is as essential to good tea 
as it is to good coflee ; and in both cases is best 



92 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

when the hot liquid is poured upon it. When all 
the tea is poured from the pot, boiling water may 
be added to extract the remaininof strenofth from 
the leaves." 

" I suppose," said Emeline, "you make green tea 
somewhat different ? Isn't it a general rule to boil 
black, and to steep green teas ? " 

"I believe so. But my practice is, when trying 
a new kind or grade of tea, to experiment by 
various methods of makhig, and ascertain which 
method is best for the particular kind of tea. As 
a general rule I find all black and English break- 
fast teas of finest flavor, when made after the man- 
ner I have just given. Occasionally I find a soil; 
that is better boiled for two or three minutes ; 
but I have never discovered any that was improved 
by being boiled and stewed indefinitely. I think 
all green teas best, steeped in a small quantity of 
water ten or fifteen minutes — the bulk of the 
water being added just before the tea is poured. 
Mandarin tea, of which I am very fond, is much 
better steeped for fifteen minutes with only a small 
quantity of water. This tea, which is only sold 
by the Woman's Tea Company, has a peculiar 
flavor, decidedly individual, and not likely to be 
mistaken for a common herb ; and those who make 
it properly soon grow to like it very much." 

" Do you use the same quantity of tea to the 
same amount of water in all cases?" asked Alice. 



BREAKFAST -TABLE GOSSIP. 93 

"By no means," I replied. "The quantity of 
tea required depends upon the strength of the tea, 
and the taste of the drinker. A greater bulk is 
required of coarse, than of fine tea; and both 
coarse and fine teas vary much in strength. In 
making tea, as in most things relating to cookery, 
good sense and discriminating care are essential 
on the part of the cook. 

" To make the meanest toast possible take bread 
that is a little sour, a trifle raw, or not quite light, 
and is not fit to eat untoasted. Lay it on a grid- 
iron over a hot fire, where it will burn before it 
even dries. When burned sufficiently to taste 
bitter, spread, it with strong butter and pack the 
slices one above the other, allowing it to become 
cool before serving, and you have a dish that 
would ruin the disrestion of an ostrich, and that no 
sensible person should touch. The woman who 
thinks good toast can be made of bad bread labors 
under a terrible delusion. Most of the attempts 
to improve bad bread or bad butter prove futile, 
as no amount of doctoring can change their normal 
condition. They generally retain all their original 
badness in spite of their disguises and conversions. 
To make the best quality of toast, the bread must 
be good. If stale, it will toast quickly by being 
held a short distance from a clear fire. If fresh, 
lay the slices on a grate, or wire frame, in allot 
oven until slightly dried. A toasting-fork is mucli 



94 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

better for toasting bread than a gridiron, as, held 
by a fork, the entire surface of the bread is ex- 
posed to the clear fire, and the distance between 
the toast and the fire can be increased or lessened 
at will. Serve toast hot in a toast-holder, or laid 
singly on a plate. If the slices are piled one upon 
another they sweat and become tough and clammy. 
Most persons prefer to butter toast for themselves, 
and many dislike it soaked with melted butter." 

The letter from my lady friend Fanny, ran 
thus : 

" I hope you are making some progress in your 
efibrts to ameliorate the unhappy condition of the 
people who eat. Unfortunately, I'm in a position 
to appreciate the need of 3^our labors, for, alas ! 
I'm boarding. For dinner to-day we had spring 
lamb and green pease, the first of the season, and 
both were unfit to eat by reason of beino^ under- 
done — that is, raAv. After tasting the pease, I 
shoved them away in disgust, and with an injured 
feeling v.^hich I think not conducive' to digestion, 
I picked out bits of lamb so far cooked that the 
squeaking sound it made while undergoing friction 
from my teeth, in a very faint degree resembled 
the far-oft' bleating of a lamb ; and that resem- 
blance, I'm certain, was pure imagination, for I 
have no doubt the lamb was dead, even if it was 
not cooked. Had the pease been sufficiently 
boiled, they would still have been nearly worth- 



BREAKFAST-TABLE GOSSIP. 95 

less, as our cook belongs to that class of idiots 
Avho drain pease ; deliberately pour away their life 
and sweetness, leaving for our nourishment only 
the dry husks. I hope in your book you will cas- 
tigate such cooks severely. Another senseless 
practice is to boil i^ease in a bag, in a pot of water. 
The only advantage this method has is, that soup 
is sometimes made of the water — which is a very 
questionable one ; for to eat soup in warm weather, 
in order to save the juice of the pease, is like the 
economy of taking medicine to prevent its being 
wasted. I doubt if you can give a better receipt 
for cooking green pease than this : To a quart of 
green pease add a half-pint of boiling water, cover 
closcl}^ and simmer gently until very tender, at 
which time the water should be nearly evaporated. 
Season lightly with salt and pepper, adding a little 
l)utter, or sweet cream. I wish you to italicize 
that word lightly, for most cooks ruin pease with 
salt. And please suggest good taste requires 
that pease should be moist enough to necessitate 
being served at table in sauce-dishes, and eaten 
with a spoon. I detest pease so hard and 
dry that they roll and tumble about ni}^ plate, 
when I make vain efforts to entice them on my 
fork, and I usually soon abandon the fruitless 
chase. And, Kate, don't forget the claims of 
asparagus. For, next to pease, I think it suffers 
most at the hands of stupid cooks. I have seen it 



96 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUII.DING. 

served in all the intermediate stages between 
asparagus soup and asparagus mush; and have 
known it to be mixed with dandelions, mustard, 
and lamb's quarter. In rinsing, it is not enough 
to pour Avater over the asparagus. Each stalk 
should 1)e held separately by the base, and swashed 
back and forth in a large pan of water until free 
from sand and dust. Then it should be tied in small 
bunches, and laid carefully in a stewpan of boiling 
water, slightly salted. Let the water barely cover 
the vegetal)le. Simmer gently until very tender 
and perfectly cooked. Have ready a platter, cov- 
ered with small slices of dry toast. With a fork 
lift a bunch of asparagus by means of the string 
around it, let it drip for an instant, then place it 
carefully upon a slice of toast. When all is so 
placed, cut and remove the strings. Pour over it 
drawn butter made with milk, or simply melted 
butter. The toast is not only a palatable accom- 
paniment, but is useful in serving the vegetable." 

"I was reading the other day," said Alice, 
"about the etiquette of high-toned society in New 
York. Among other things, I learned that it is 
there considered vulgar to eat the toast upon which 
the asparagus is served." 

" I know of no better method of cooking pease 
or asparagus than those described by Fanny, and 
shall certainly preserve her letter among my cook- 
book scraps. String beans and green lima beans 



BREAKFAST-TABLE GOSSIP. 97 

should be cooked in the same manner as green 
pease. Dried beans, a palatable, nutritious veg- 
etable, are seldom seen upon our tables, save as 
the old, time-honored, traditional baked pork and 
beans, a dish which the average modern stomach 
rejects as too strong. But why discard the bean 
because pork and beans make too hearty a dish, 
or because the discovery of trichina has spoiled 
our relish for pork ? To cook dried beans, place 
them on the back of the stove in a plentiful supply 
of cold water. When swelled, drain the water 
off and give them a fresh supply. Let them 
simmer until parboiled. Drain again, adding 
enough hot water to finish cooking. Boil gently 
till soft, and, when done, season with salt, pepper, 
and butter. Serve them at this stage as stewed 
beans ; or, place them in a deep dish, and bake in 
a hot oven, and you have baked beans, without 
the addition of pork. Care should be taken to 
always have beans thoroughly cooked, as other- 
wise they are indigestible and unwdiolesome." 

"Kate," said Emeline, "I can give you a better 
method for baking beans. Pick and soak the 
beans over nio'ht in cold water. In the mornino^ 
put them into fresh cold water to boil, and simmer 
gently till the skins break, and they seem about 
to fall to pieces. Then season to taste with salt, 
pepper, and butter; or, use pork, if preferred, 
adding a tablespoonful of molasses to every two 



98 COOKING AKD CASTLE-BUILDING. 

quarts of beans. Put the beans in a deep cro(.'k, 
place them m a moderate oven, and let them bake 
indefinitely, only it must be a long indefinitely. 
Add water from time to time, if necessary, to 
keep them from becoming too dry. When they 
assume a reddish-brown tinge, something akin in 
color to Boston brown bread, their perfect state is 
approaching ; and they can be put into a baking- 
dish, suitable to send to the table, and nicely 
browned in the oven ; or they can be set aside 
until next day and re-baked in time for dinner. 
Now, Kate, if you can place beside this recipe one 
for Boston brown bread, yoiiv cook-book will be 
appreciated. By the way, I wonder if this admix- 
ture of molasses in baked beans gave rise to the 
assertion that Yankees eat pork and molasses." 

"Are we," asked Alice, "to understand that 
green vegetables are to be put to cook in hot 
water, and dried ones in cold water? " 

" All dried vegetables should certainly be put 
into cold, or lukewarm, water; but there is a 
difierence of opinion in regard to fresh vegetables. 
Some cooks contend that it preserves their green 
color to put them into boiling water, but as I fail 
to see why vegetables are more desirable on 
account of shades of colors, that suggestion has no 
w^eight with, me. From experiments that I have 
made, I fail to discover any material difference 
between putting green vegetables to cook in cold, 



BREAKFAST-TABLE GOSSIP. 99 

warm, or boiling water; consequently, I use 
whichever is most convenient." 

"Cousin Kate," observed Alice, "as my favorite 
vegetable is sweet corn, I should like to know 
your pet method of cooking it." 

"I prefer it stewed," I said, "as it retains all 
its sweetness when cooked in that manner. Cut 
the corn from the cob ; but be careful, in so doing, 
not to cut any portions of the cob. Scrape off the 
milk, also the eyes of the grains. When you have 
prepared all your corn, put it in a stew-pan, 
adding not more than half a pint of water to a 
quart of corn. Cover closely and stew gently for 
thirty or forty minutes, stirring frequently at first 
to prevent it sticking to the kettle and burning. 
By the time it is thoroughly cooked the water will 
have evaporated, and you can se'ason to taste with 
salt and butter; or you can use sweet cream, if 
you prefer it to butter. Corn cooked in this way 
is much sweeter than when steamed or boiled, and 
it is much easier to cut it from the cob before than 
after it is cooked. 

"Corn oysters I think especially nice. They 
are made in this manner : 8^311 1 each row of ker- 
nels through the middle, while on the cob. Shave 
off thinly, then again in the same way, and finally 
scrape off the eyes and milk. This method of 
preparing the corn is much nicer than grating it. 
To the corn from eijrht or ten medium-sized ears. 



100 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

add the whites of three eggs, beaten to a stiff 
froth, and three tablespoonfiils of flour. Add the 
egg and flour alternately, first egg and then flour, 
in two or three portions, stirring them in with a 
fork. Season lightly with salt and pepper, and 
fry the same as oysters, putting a spoonful at a 
time on the griddle, or in the spider. Fry in a 
small quantity of lard and butter mixed. Brown 
on both sides and serve on a heated platter." 

"Kate, / beseech you," Emeline said, as soon 
as I paused, "that you deal justly with the potato 
— the white potato that we eat at all meals, and 
in all seasons, nearly every day of our lives. 
What a sorry, sad-looking object it is as it comes 
from the hands of some cooks, sent to the table in 
its dingy jacket, or sallow and waxen, without its 
jacket, that having been hastily removed just 
before servino:. But served in either of these 
styles it is preferable to that miserable mash, 
bluish in color, full of lumps and cold stifiiiess, or 
watery and rank in flavor." 

"Your descriptions," I replied, "are perfect, 
Emeline ; I recognize each as an old acquaintance. 
The white, or Irish potato, when full grown, I 
think, is always better pared before cooking. 
Not only pared, but well pared. Having carefully 
removed all the dark eyes and dingy spots, let the 
potatoes lie for an hour or two in a plentiful sup- 
ply of cold water, and then put them to boil, in a 



BREAKFAST-TABLE GOSSIP. 101 

large quantity of boiling water. They should boil 
moderate^, and as soon as tender at the heart, be 
drained, partly covered and set to dry on the back 
of the stove. Every minute or two give them a 
gentle shake, so that they roll over and change 
positions, until they are perfect snowballs of pow- 
dery whiteness. If served in this state, you will 
find them the perfection of boiled potatoes. I 
think very few would pass them by untasted. If 
mashed, the potato should be made fine and free 
from all lumps, before cream, milk, or butter is 
added. After the seasoning is in, beat well with 
a wooden spoon, or potato-beater, until light. 
Serve hot. 

" This is a general rule for boiling potatoes ; but 
like all rules it has exceptions. Diiferent varieties 
of the vegetable require diiierent methods of cook- 
ino-. Some may be better placed to boil in cold 
water and allowed to heat gradually, as the water 
heats ; others in a small quantity of water ; while 
others — the peach-blow, for instance — should 
never be boiled at all, but should be either baked 
or steamed. When baked in a hot oven, the peach- 
blow is dry, mealy, and white, and always satis- 
ftictory. It is also the same steamed. But boiled, 
it is worse than a disappointment. It is a hard- 
hearted thing widi all its tenderness on the surfiice ; 
and boil it as you will, the result is unsatisfactory 



102 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

— usually hardness at the core, while the- outside 
is cooked into a mush or gruel. To drain and dry 
properly under these circumstances is difficult. 
But no woman should rest content with an imper- 
fect dish of potatoes. If one method of cooking 
fails she should try another. 

"An agreeable companion to fried chicken is fried 
potato, done in this way : Slice very thin, soak 
for an hour or two in cold water, changing the 
water once or twice. Drain the slices in a strainer, 
and dry them on towels, by rolling and tumbling 
them from one towel to another. Have the slices 
separate, not packed together, when put into the 
boiling lard.- Fry the same as chicken. When 
of a light brown, lift, by means of a wire skimmer 

— an indispensable thing in every well-ordered 
kitchen — and drain in a wire or tin sieve. Serve 
hot. The last water in which the slices lie may 
be slightly salted, or a very slight sprinkling of 
salt given them when served. 

" Stewed potato, a nice breakfast dish, is easily 
prepared. Cut the potato in slices about an 
eighth of an inch in thickness. Boil gently until 
tender, but not quite done. Drain the water away, 
adding sweet cream and seasoning. Cover closely 
and stew very gently for a few minutes. A little 
minced parsley, if liked, may be added. 

"Browned potatoes are very nice for dinner, with 



BKEAKFAST-TABLE GOSSIP. 103 

a, roast. Pare and place them in the dripping-pan 
around the meat. Tarn them over when partly 
done, that they may brown evenly. Potatoes of 
medium size require an hour to cook in this 
manner." 



104 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING, 



CHAPTER VII. 

AT DINNER. 

"I THINK, Cousin Emeline, there is no dish 
more usually detestable in America than soup. 
Were I to descri1:)e most truthfully what T have 
usually found passing under that name, I should 
call it greasy water, well seasoned with pepper and 
salt, and having in it macaroni, rice, or stringy 
bits of vegetables, — a mixture both unwholesome 
and unpalatable. In my cook-book I mean to 
insist that one of the cardinal virtues of good 
cooking is, that food shall be so prepared as not 
to taste watery. I have often dined where every 
article of food upon the table could have been 
properly labelled ' watery,' for the soup was 
watery, the roast was watery, the vegetables were 
watery, and even the pies and puddings were 
watery. But this soup which Alice has served us 
to-day, would silence the complaints of the most 
inveterate grumbler. It is lovely to look at, being 
of a rich color, between amber and ruby, and the 
flavor is like a mingling of many good things, 
whereby something far better has been produced, 
than is concealed in any single ingredient. You 



AT DINNER. 105 

taste neither water, meat, vegetables, herbs, nor 
spices. You cannot be sure this, that, or the 
other went to make up the delicious whole. You 
relish it. It is appetizing, satisfying, and worthy 
of being called soup. The cook who serves a 
soup like this is an artist, with fine tastes and 
keen perceptions ; and although neither Alice nor 
I could give the exact recipe, the general rules for 
making soup are easily laid down, and each cook 
must put in the delicate finishing touches accord- 
ing to taste and fancy. 

" In the first place a soup-kettle must be a soup- 
kettle, and nothing else. And unless made with 
a false bottom it should stand on a rest that raises 
it from the stove, so that its contents shall not be 
in danger of burning. Let the cover fit closely. 
Put into it a beef bone, carefully washed and 
broken ; the trimmings of beefsteak, veal cutlets, 
lamb chops ; the refuse pieces of cold meat of all 
sorts, roasted, boiled or fried ; also game, fresh 
fish, the skeletons of roast chicken or turkey, 
beefsteak bones, and all scraps that are good for 
nothing else, — bearing in mind always that they 
must be cleaned and not burned. Never allow 
the soup-kettle to boil, but let it simmer unceas- 
ingly. When all the desirable qualities are 
extracted from the bones and meat by this long- 
continued simmering, strain the contents of the 
kettle into an earthen bowl. Cover, and set aside. 



106 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

In cold weather, soup ^ stock,' as this preparation 
is called, may be kept for many days, especially 
if the surface covering of grease is not removed ; 
but in warm weather it should only be kept, 
and then in a cool place, from one day until the 
next. Before returning the stock to the soup- 
kettle, carefully remove all the grease, and add 
barley, rice, macaroni, vermicelli, vegetables, or 
such ingredients as desired, according to the sort 
of soup to be made. The carrot I consider one 
of the most important vegetables for soup, as it 
has a good taste and a rich color, and is whole- 
some. Tomatoes and onions come next in order ; 
but the latter should be used only for flavoring, 
and sparingly. The soup which has inspired my 
observations was, I think, made in this manner : 
To two quarts of soup stock, two carrots, ten 
tomatoes, one onion, and a pinch of thyme or 
sweet marjoram were added. When the veg- 
etables were simmered to pieces, the soup was 
strained, the shreds of vegetables thrown away, 
and the soup returned to the kettle. A table- 
spoonful of flour, stirred to a smooth paste with a 
little butter, was added when the soup came to a 
boil, also a little salt and pepper. Care was taken 
not to overdo the seasoning, but to blend every- 
thing perfectly. And just before serving, Alice 
put into the soup-tureen diced toast ; that is, dry 
toast, very crisp, cut in small square bits. These 



AT DINNER. 107 

bits of toast are best when added to the soup by 
the hostess just before serving, as then they reach 
the mouth in a dry, or less soaked condition, and, 
requiring some mastication, assist the digestion of 
the soup. Instead of toast, bread maybe cut into 
small bits and fried in butter, until brown and 
crisp, or carrots cut in the same form and stewed 
until tender, may be added in place of either, or 
the soup may be served clear. When carrots, 
tomatoes, and browned bits of meat and bones 
are not used in preparing soup, a tablespoonful 
each of flour, butter, and sugar, browned together 
and added to the soup, gives it a rich color and 
fine flavor. Pure broths of beef, mutton, or 
chicken, delicately seasoned with salt and pepper, 
and having no other ingredients than rice or bar- 
ley, are always good, and in many respects better 
than more elaborate soups. But broths, as well 
as soups, should have their distinct flavors, and 
should not be mere sloppy or greasy gruel, fero- 
ciously salted and peppered. 

"This leg of lamb, Alice, is done to a turn, 
which cannot truthfully be said of the average 
roast. Meat should be put to roast in as hot an 
oven as it will bear without burning. After the 
outside is browned and crusted over, imprisoning 
the juices within, the heat may be somewhat 
lessened. But I recommend roasting all meats as 
quickly as possible. The roast should be placed 



108 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

in the pan without water or drippings. When 
cooked, it may be sprinkled with salt and pepper, 
if desired. The practice, so much in vogue, of 
slopping water over meat to MDaste' it, is very 
objectionable. It brings out the juices, and 
toughens and injures the quality of the meat. 
Salt, for the same reasons, should not be sprinkled 
over the meat before, or while, roasting. Yeal is 
an exception to the general rule. Being a dry, 
tasteless meat, I think it is improved by frequent 
bastings with a well-seasoned gravy, to which a 
piece of butter and a teaspoonful of sugar have 
been added. Veal should be cooked more thor- 
oughly than any other kind of meat except pork, 
— in fact should be cooked to death. Roast veal 
is best when cold. 

"A roast of beef is much improved by searing 
the cut sides just before putting it in the oven. 
This is done by laying it in a hot pan or spider, 
over a bright fire, for two or three minutes. As 
soon as one side is brown, turn it over in the 
spider and brown the other, and place in a hot 
oven immediately. In roasting meat it is custom- 
ary to allow fifteen minutes to each pound of beef, 
and twenty-five minutes to each pound of lamb or 
mutton. But when it has been seared before it is 
placed in the oven, at least half an hour can be 
deducted from the usual time allowed an ordinary 
roast of eight pounds. The advantage of the 



AT DINNEK. 109 

searing process is not, however, so much in saving 
time in roasting, as in saving the juices of the 
meat by the instant forming of crusts on the out- 
side. I feel confident that no sensible woman, 
after a fair trial of the method of roastins: meats 
by placing them dry in the pan, will ever return 
to the old way of basting them with water or drip- 
pings. It is a prevalent idea that meat will burn 
in roasting, if not basted, or wet w^ith drippings ; 
but the fact is, meat will bear all the heat neces- 
sary to roast it in the most perfect manner, and 
not burn. Eesting dry upon the bottom of the 
pan, upper and under sides brown evenly at the 
same time ; and not only is the process of roasting 
shortened, but nearly all the trouble of changing 
the positions of the meat in the oven is avoided. 
"To boil meats or fowls, put them in boiling 
water and simmer smartly, until tender. Never 
allow them to boil fast or furiously, as so doing 
toughens the meat, and at the same time robs it 
of its juices. The smallest quantity of water 
possible should be used in boiling meats, and no 
salt should be added until the meat is nearly 
done. The fowl or joint should be covered 
closely, and frequently turned in the pot while 
boiling. Ham is best put in cold water and sim- 
mered gently until well done. The ham should be 
placed in the boiler with the skin down, and with 
sufficient water to cover it. After it begins to boil, 



110 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

fifteen minutes to each pound it weighs is not too 
much time to give it for thorough boiUng. When 
removed from the water it should be allowed to 
cool before it is skinned. After skinning, place 
it in a pan, cover the outside thickly with white 
sugar, saturate with wine or vinegar, and brown 
richly in a moderate oven. Smoked ham should 
always be soaked over night in cold water, scraped 
and well washed before boilinsr. 

"Salted meats, such as corned beef, tongue, etc., 
if too salt to be boiled in a small quantity of 
water, should be soaked in cold water, which 
extracts the salt without injuring the meat." 

"Kate, in your cook-book do you mean to con- 
sider the whole bill of fare from besrinnino: to 
end; or will you select from it here and there, 
taking only such articles and subjects as seem to 
you most needing consideration ? " 

" To discuss, or even glance at our whole bill 
of fare would require more time than I could give 
were I to live to threescore and ten. All I hope 
to do is to call attention to the importance of the 
subject, and to suggest such improvements in 
methods of cooking as have come under my per- 
sonal observation. I shall not lumber up my 
cook-book with numberless untried recipes, but 
will endeavor to give the general principles that 
underlie them all ; so that by its aid any woman 
with an ordinary quantity of brains will be en- 



AT DINNER. 



Ill 



abled to prepare all kinds of food in a proper and 
healthful manner. 

"How delicious these onions are, Alice, — ten- 
der and sweet, without being overdone into a 
tasteless mush. I seldom find beets, onions, or 
cabbage cooked to my liking. Beets are usually 
underdone, while onions and cabbage are over- 
done, and served with a supply of water quite 
unnecessary. Onions, cabbage, turnips, and all 
greens should be gently pressed in a colander 
until free from water; then placed in a heated 
dish, and seasoned with salt, pepper, and butter. 
Young dandelions and spinach are delicious so 
served." 

"Kate, in France, I found a very nice dinner- 
dish, which I wish you would put into your book. 
It has three recommendations: It is palatable, 
ornamental, and inexpensive. Take a piece of 
beef, where lean and fat are mixed, — a rib cut is 
nice, if not too fat ; boil gently until very tender, 
in well salted water. INIake tomato sauce by 
stewiu": tomatoes and straininsr out the seeds. 
Place the tomatoes in a saucepan over the fire and 
season with butter, salt, pepper, and a little 
sugar ; lastly, add a spoonful of arrowroot or 
corn-starch, wet with water. Boil. The tomato 
sauce should be of the consistence of thick gravy, 
and perfectly smooth. Serve, by placing the meat 
on a hot platter and pouring the sauce over it. 



112 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

A beef tongue cooked and served the same way is 
delicious." And Emeline continued: "Kate, I 
incline to the opinion that enjoyment of a meal 
depends in great measure upon the suitability of 
the things composing it. One can, no doubt, 
acquire a taste for almost any kind of food ; but 
while some kinds appear to be divorced by nature, 
other kinds seem to be designed expressly to go 
together." 

" You are right," I replied. " White potatoes, 
for instance, are suitable with nearly everything. 
Baked potatoes are universally acceptable Avith 
cold meats for dinner ; and with beefsteak, chops, 
or picked-up codfish for breakfast. They are 
especially good with all kinds of fresh fish, and 
also with fried or scalloped oysters. Mashed or 
plain boiled potatoes should be served with stewed 
chicken, and roast meats or fowls with which 
gravies are served. Sweet potatoes seem most at 
home with roast beef, lamb, and fowls. Turnips 
and cabbages are appropriate with mutton and 
corned beef. Onions with beefsteak, roast beef, 
and roast fowls. Tomatoes are good with fish, 
flesh, or fowl ; but are especially good with fat 
meats or poultry. This is also the case with sour 
baked or stewed apples. Sour baked apples are 
also nice with hash, for breakfast. 

"But the suitability of food is a fruitful theme, 
and should be as much a subject of study as the 



AT DINNER. 113 

suitability of sounds or colors. The idea has 
somehow obtained that it is improper or undigni- 
fied for intelligent men and women to make a 
study of gastronomy. The cultivated stomach, 
however, appreciates contrast and harmonies in 
taste as keenly as the cultivated eye or ear does 
in color or sound ; and I am satisfied, in my own 
mind, that the stomach is as much jarred and dis- 
arranged by inharmonious tastes as either eye or 
ear by inharmonious sights or sounds. The stom- 
ach is the most important, as well as the most 
delicate, organ in a human being. It is not 
merely a receptacle for stufi* that has tickled the 
palate, or for food that will sustain life. It is the 
workshop in which are prepared all the materials 
essential to the building up of body and l)rain, 
and its needs and demands should be treated with 
thou2rhtful consideration." 

o 

" Cousin Kate, don't forget our rice pudding," 
said Alice. 

"Ah, no ! Let me help 3^our mother. See, as 
the spoon cuts through the light brown skin, a 
rich, creamy substance appears ; not of a pure 
white, but with a faint tinge of salmon. Each 
grain of rice is perfect in form and of large size, 
as if expanded to its utmost capacity ; yet so soft 
that the slightest pressure is sufiicient to crush it. 
This pudding is made of milk, rice, and sugar. It 
contains no raisins, butter, or water. The pro- 



114 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

portions are these : Eight measures of new milk, 
one measure of rice, one measure of sugar. If 
desired, it may be flavored with lemon, vanilla, or 
nutmeg, and a small pinch of salt should be added. 
Place it on the range, where it will heat slowly. 
Stir occasionally while the rice is swelling, and 
when the milk is boiUng hot, place the pudding in 
a moderate oven and bake for one hour, or until 
the rice is quite soft. Do not stir the pudding 
after placing it in the oven, but try to ascertain if 
the rice is done before removing it. Serve cold. 
This simple pudding, I think, nine persons out of 
ten would prefer to those messes and mixtures 
compounded of boiled rice, eggs, fruit, and but- 
ter, and served warm with sauce. Yet the aver- 
age cook takes extra pains to make the expensive, 
indigestible dish, while this simple, wholesome, 
and delicious dish seems to be almost unknown. 
The error of supposing that nearly every kind of 
food is improved by the addition of butter seems 
to be as wide-spread as it is damaging and false. 
While some dishes are improved for most tastes, 
by the judicious use of good butter, a vastly 
greater number are spoiled by the injudicious use 
of bad butter. And here I wish to say emphati- 
cally, that I know of no judicious use to which bad 
butter can be applied by a housewife, except that 
of making it into soap. To put bad butter into 
pastry, puddings, and vegetables, does not make 



AT DINNER. 115 

the butter good. It simply spoils the pastry? 
puddings, and vegetables. Many dishes are over- 
dosed with sweet butter ; while others in which it 
it is usually found are much better without it. 
American cooks have entirely too much faith in 
the virtue and potency of grease." 

" In looking over the ' American Woman's 
Home ' the other day," observed Alice, " I came 
across a paragraph on butter, that I presume you 
would endorse. I will read it to you : ^ A matter 
for despair as regards bad butter is, that at the 
tables where it is used it stands sentinel at the 
door to bar your way to every other kind of food. 
You turn from your dreadful half slice of bread 
which fills your mouth with bitterness, to your 
beefsteak, which proves virulent with the same 
poison. You think to take refuge in vegetable 
diet, and find the butter in the string-beans, and 
polluting the inuocence of early pease. It is in 
the corn, in the succotash, in the squash. The 
beets swim in it ; the onions have it poured over 
them. Hungry and miserable, you think to solace 
yourself at dessert, but the cake is acrid and the 
pastiy is cursed with the same plague.'" 

" But to change the subject, Kate, have you 
noticed," interrogated Emeline, " on how few 
tables you find rice that is properly cookeel ? " 

"Yes, I have noticed with sorrow the ignorance 
and stupidity exhibited in the preparation of so 
simple an article of food. 



116 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

" There are several excellent methods of cooking 
rice. This is one of them : After the rice has been 
carefully picked and wasiied, add three measures 
of warm water to one measure of rice, and soak 
for an hour. Then cook it in the same water, by 
setting the dish containing it in a steamer, and 
steaming it for one hour. When put to steam add 
a small quantity of salt, and stir two or three times 
with a fork during the first fifteen minutes. Rice 
cooked in this manner will be white and dry, with 
each grain separate and distinct, yet soft and 
palatable. If desired, part of the water can be 
left out, and its equivalent in milk added, when 
the rice is nearly done cooking. One advantage 
of this method is, that rice can be boiled in a china 
bowl, or any vessel preferred. 

" If you wish to cook rice quickly, I know of 
no better way than this : Put one measure of rice 
in five measures of boiling water. Cover closely 
and boil rapidly, twenty or twenty-five minutes, 
till tender. Drain, partly cover, and set fifteen 
minutes, where it will keep hot, and dry off." 

Ahce seemed to be growing restless and im- 
patient about something ; but she gave no expres- 
sion to her feelings except by a quick, nervous 
tapping of the toe of her kid slipper upon the 
carpet, and by a frequent pushing back of the stray 
curls whicli rested against her cheek. At last she 
sprang up joyfully, exclaiming: "Oh, Susannah, 



AT DINNER. 117 

what a deal of work you must have had to do this 
niornmg. Where shall we go first? Up stah-s, 
down stairs, or to the lady's chamber?" 

" I always do her room first, and the drawing- 
room last," replied Susannah, adding : " Will you 
come too. Miss Kate? and perhaps the Madam 
wouldn't object. " 

Upon this invitation we all followed her up- 
stairs, and through the dimly-lighted passage, to 
the suite of rooms heretofore mentioned as having 
been occupied by the late Mrs. Douglas. The 
main room was large, air};-, and well-lighted. 
Opening out of this were two smaller ones — a bed- 
chamber and a dressing-room. The walls were of 
a soft gray tint, and were hung with paintings, 
engravings, and chromos. The carpet had a gray 
ground, covered with vines of the trailing arbutus, 
so perfect that, as our feet pressed them, we almost 
expected the delicious fragrance of the cruslied 
flowers to come stealing up from their mossy bed. 
Window draperies, easy-chairs, and lounges were 
of gray cretonne, relieved by glowing vines and 
bright blossoms. All the furniture was of rose- 
wood, massive and delicately carved. At the foot 
of the bed stood a small crib, the lace curtains of 
which were looped back with rose-colored ribbons. 
By the side of the crib Alice paused, and, with 
trembling voice, asked, "Did the baby die too?" 
" O ves. Miss, before the mother. And it was the 



118 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

shock that killed her, I've no manner of doubt," 
answered Susannah. " You see that she was just 
hanging, sort of even balance between life and 
death, when the nurse announced thoughtlessly 
that the child was dead. At that she gave a little 
cry, and stretched out her arms, begging for her 
baby ; and from that time she sank rapidly, sob- 
bing and sighing, until she breathed her last. 
Now, I think if her baby had lived, she wouldn't 
have died." Susannah paused a moment, wiped 
her eyes with the corner of her check apron, and 
continued: "These bureau drawers. Miss Alice, 
are packed full of the handsomest baby things you 
ever saw. There are heaps and heaps of gossamer 
flannels, tiny socks and dainty night-dresses, and 
other things, all tucked and puffed with lace. 
Poor, dear lamb, she used to sit there in the sun- 
shine sewing and singing day after day — singing 
in a low sweet voice a war])le of some sort, just fit 
for a lullaby. And more than once I said to her, 
' ]\Iiss Helen, I vrouldn't make so many of those 
little things. It isn't a good sign?" Then she 
would reply, with a blush, 'AVhy, I think it is a 
very good sign indeed, Susannah. But go away 
with your superstitions. I put no faith in signs 
and omens.' And I don't think she believed a 
word in any of the signs ; but, bless her dear 
heart, they came true all the same. And I sup- 
pose it was all for the best. For it matters little 



AT DINNER. 119 

to any of us whether we die to-day, or to-mor- 
row, or in a few years. The end soon comes any- 
how." 

" Cousin Kate, w^hat is this?" interrupted Alice, 
holding up a small, beautifully bound volume, on 
the back of which, in letters of gold, was the 
name — "Helen Douglas." 

"That," I answered, ''is a memorial — a tribute 
to the dead wife, written by the husband during 
the first weeks of his liereavement. It contains 
some beautiful things. Wouldn't you like to look 
it over at your leisure?" 

"Indeed, I should," was the reply; and Alice 
tucked the l)ook under her arm, hugging it closely 
to her side, as if she regarded it as a rare treasure, 
while we followed Susannah to the drawinsr-room. 

No sooner were the windows opened, and the 
room filled with light and sunshine than Alix:e ex- 
citedly exclaimed : 

"Mamma, look at those pictures — 'My lord' 
and his mother. Cousin Kate, w^hat does it all 
mean ? Who are these people ? " 

"That," I answered, quietly, "is the portrait of 
my old school-mate Jennie Douglas, and this a 
very good likeness of her son Gerald ; while this 
is an idealized but faithful picture of his wife. 
Wasn't she a beautiful w^oman ? " 

"She is beautiful," said Alice. "I can't bear to 
hear to hear you say she loas beautiful, as if her 



]20 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

life was ended. tiad I known her, I could 
never think of her as dead, I am sure." 

"Kate," asked Emelnie, "did you suspect that 
our Switzerland acquaintances were your friends, 
the Douglases ? " 

"I did suspect, in fact was sure of their identity 
from your very accurate descriptions. Quite a 
romance, isn't it, Alice? And that you should 
have dreamed of this man the first night you slept 
under his roof, not knowing of his association with 
these scenes, seems to me a singular coincidence. 
But there is no accounting for dreams, or the 
strange happening of events. The most unlooked 
for, as well as most unwished for circumstances, 
sometimes turn our lives into a new channel, and, 
in after days, we see what we thought at the time 
a great calamity, was, after all, for our best 
good." 

"Yes," said Emeline, reflectively, "this life 
seems a sad muddle. We go groping about in 
the dark, seeing strange shapes of evil, and 
stumbling over neglected graves, longing for 
light, and praying for mists and fogs to roll away ; 
and sometimes catching glorious glimpses of the 
evil shapes changing to friendly faces, and the 
sad graves becoming mounds of bloom and green- 
ness. But, Kate, w^e have been here more than a 
month, and you have not devoted one hour to my 
novel. Now, on the first rainy day, I shall ex- 



AT DINNER. 121 

pcot you and Alice to come to my room and 
spend the entire morning in listening to portions 
of it. I want your opinion about so many things 
— even about deciding. upon a title for it. To 
name my first-born- and only child, I found an 
easy matter compared with determining what to 
call this fledgling of my imagination. I think a 
title should be attractive, and at the same time give 
a hint, at least, of the contents of the ])Ook, don't 
you?" 

"Yes, that is well enough in a novel. But in 
the case of my cook-book I have a different opin- 
ion. That I intend to slip into libraries and on 
centre-tables, as well as into kitchens, and have 
it read by thousands, who would otherwise never 
look at it, by selecting a title that suggests pleas- 
ant light reading rather than a dry dissertation 
upon cookery. Won't I steal a march upon many 
an unsuspecting damsel, and teach hundreds how 
to cook before they realize they are reading a 
cook-book ? " 

" I never saw a more spiritual face," said Alice, 
still wrapt in contemplation of the portrait of 
Helen Douglas. As represented by the artist, 
she appeared a blonde with delicate features, 
whose large eyes and full mouth might have had 
in them a hint of voluptuousness, but for the pure, 
Madonna-like expression of the whole face. A 
flowing robe of fleecy white added to the effect. 



122 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

Her hands were folded upon her bosom, one of 
them touching a large cross suspended from her 
neck by a tiny gold chain. This was the only 
ornament she wore. Her eyes were raised as if 
in prayer, and her light, wavy hair floated uncon- 
fined over her neck and shoulders. 

"It is, indeed, very lovely, and it will be a 
wicked shame if the second Mrs. Douglas banishes 
it to the attic," was Emeline's response to her 
daughter. 

A slight flush appeared on Alice's cheek, as she 
replied, "Mamma, Gerald Douglas looks to me 
like a man who, loving once, would love forever ; 
but perhaps I can judge better vrhat manner of 
man he is, after reading this memorial." And 
Alice left us, to peruse in her own room, the small 
gilt-edged volume dedicated to the memory of 
Helen Douglas. 



OMELET AND DAINTY DISHES. 12^ 



CHAPTEE VIII. 

OMELET AND DAINTY DISHES. 

" Beoiled chicken for breakfiist — how nice ! '' 
said Cousin Emeline, as she lifted the cover from 
the dish before me. "What a pity so few cooks 
can broil well I I've had more difficulty in the 
broiling department than in any other." 

"Broiling, Emeline, when properly done, is a 
very satisfying method of cooking steaks, chops, 
chicken, etc., — satisfying to the eater thereof, I 
mean. But the poor housewife who broils herself 
as well as her meats, in the laborious effort to 
attain perfection, does not perhaps enjoy it to the 
same extent. AYith a suitable fire and other con- 
veniences, broiling is not at all difficult. But 
with the average range or cooking-stove it is no 
easy matter, as the fire is seldom in right condi- 
tion at the important moment. And my recom- 
mendation to women who toil and suffer to bring 
the broiled steak or chop to the table in perfec- 
tion, is to try this method : At the time of placing 
the steak over the fire, put into the oven a drip- 
ping-pan large enough to hold the steak without 
foldins:. As soon as the steak is lightly browned 



124 COOKmO AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

on one side, turn and brown it on the other ; then 
transfer it instantly to the hot pan and oven, 
where, if it be thick, it will need to remain from 
five to ten minutes, according to the state in which 
it is to be served. Serve on a heated platter, and 
season after removinc: from the oven. This 
method relieves the cook, saves all the juices of 
the meat, and prevents it from burning on the 
outside while it remains raw within. No one can 
tell a steak so cooked from one finished on the 
gridiron ; and those who have tried both methods, 
find the hot-oven finish far superior. But it will 
not answer to have the oven warm merely. It 
must be hot. Or, steaks, chops, etc., may be 
broiled — literally broiled — in this way : Set your 
spider on the stove, and let it get smoking hot. 
Put in no butter nor any kind of grease. Have 
your meat previously prepared by trimming oft' 
all pieces of bone, gland, superfluous suet, and 
tissue that will bind the edge and make it turn up. 
Lay it carefully and smoothly in the spider. It 
will stick fast at first, but as soon as browned it 
can be loosened with a knife. When juice begins 
to appear turn it over, and let the other side 
brown the same as the first. Press closel}'- to the 
pan when turned, and turn as often as is necessary 
to save the juices and cook the steak properly. 
"Lamb or mutton chops are very nice, dipped in 
beaten egg, covered with bread-crumbs rolled fine, 



OMELET AND DAINTY DISHES. 125 

and fried like chicken, in a quantity of boiling 
lard. When broiled, they should always be done, 
like steak, in a hot pan, unless they are very 
much trimmed ; that is, unless the small piece of 
lean tenderloin is separated entirely from the bone 
and fat, which should be rejected. These trimmed 
chops may be broiled over a clear tire in a wire 
gridiron, such as is used for oysters ; and, when 
so cooked, are delicious. The rejected bone 
and fat can be saved in a stew, or in the soup- 
kettle. But it would be no more wasteful to 
throw them away, than to retain and broil alto- 
gether, as is usually done. For in the latter case 
the result is generally a badly damaged chop, 
smoked and burned from the dripping of grease 
— an unsightly, awkward piece, from which nine 
persons out of ten select and cat the small bit 
only, leaving the rest upon their plates to be 
thrown out with the scraps from the table. But 
in my cook-book, in connection Avith this recipe 
for broiling, I intend to put in staring capitals. 
Keep the broiling-pan piping hot all the time 

THE MEAT IS cooking." 

"Your labor-saving expedients," remarked 
Emeline, "may do well enough with chops and 
steaks, and may probably prevent them from being 
burned or underdone. But by no substitute for 
the gridiron, or by no make-believe method of the 
sort you recommend, could a broiled chicken be 



126 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

produced that would begin to approach this in 
excellence." 

"Ah, ha ! " said Alice, gayly, "you are in error 
there. This chicken has never touched a gridiron, 
nor seen live coals. It was done entirely in a hot 
oven, after one of Cousin Kate's labor-saving 
methods. This is the way it was cooked : The 
chicken was prepared for broiling by being opened 
down the back, washed in cold water, and wiped 
dry with a soft cloth. The breast-bone was flat- 
tened with a mallet, the wings were twisted back, 
to leave the breast exposed, and the chicken was 
placed, skin up, in a dripping-pan, and pressed 
close to the pan, to make it lie as flat as possible. 
After being thus fixed, I put it into a hot oven and 
shut the door. In about five minutes I heard a 
sputtering inside, iind bcgcUi to think something 
was wrong ; but Cousin Kate dissipated my fears 
by assuring me that it was cooking nicely. From 
time to time I peeped into the oven, just to see 
that it was not burning, and at the expiration of 
twenty or twenty-five minutes I placed the chicken 
on a heated platter, seasoned it with pepper, salt, 
and butter, and here it is before us." 

" Incomparable as a broiled chicken ! " was 
Emeline's response. 

" So thinks my fiistidious mamma ? But would 
you have thought so had you^ known before you 
tasted it that it was oven-cooked ? " 



03IELET AND DAINTY DISHES. 127 

"I do not think my prejudice in favor of ])roil- 
ing could prevent my appreciating so perfectly 
cooked a chicken as you have served us this morn- 
ing, Alice. Bat why do you not season, and 
baste it with butter, before 3^ou put it in the 
oven ? I would do so ; and Avould also put water 
in the pan, to keep it from burning." 

"There you would make a great mistake," said 
Alice, decidedly. " The pan must be dry, so that 
the chicken will brown on the bottom ; and the 
chicken must be dry, so it may broil, instead of 
steam and stew. Besides, if the chicken was 
basted with ])utter it Avould brown with less heat ; 
and Cousin Kate says the secret of success in 
this method, is in having the oven just as hot as 
the chicken will ]:)ear without burning. It would 
by no means be the same, in appearance or taste, 
if done in a slow, or even a moderate oven." 

"All birds that are good broiled, are better 
Vv^hen cooked in a hot oven in the manner Alice 
has just described," I remarked ; when the appear- 
ance of Tom with the mail interrupted the conver- 
sation. Among my letters was one from my 
friend Mrs. Rose, containing some hints for my 
cook-book. In. regard to quail, she wrote : 

" ' I think there is no bird more delicate than 
a quail broiled in this manner : Lay the bird on 
a gridiron, and, when it begins to brown, dip it 
into butter, seasoned with salt and pepper. Con- 



128 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

tinue to broil and dip, until it is done brown — a 
nice yellow brown all over. Serve hot.' " 

"You don't approve of that, Kate, do you?" 
interrupted Emeline ; " it seems to clash with some 
of your theories." 

"At all events, Emeline, I shall not condemn 
without trying it. And perhaps the use of the 
butter here to hasten the browning, may be a 
good thing, as otherwise the bird might be too 
much done before it was properly browned. But 
to return to the letter. 

"^Wild ducks should be cooked as soon as 
possible after they are shot. I know that large 
quantities are sent to gentlemen in London, by 
their friends in this country. But by the time 
they reach them, I doubt not the English gen- 
try think very much as Mrs. M. did, especially if 
their ducks are cooked in the same manner hers 
were. Her husband's brother sent her from 
Washington a pair of canvas-backs for which he 
paid $10 ; but she didn't think them as good as a 
pair of tame ducks she could buy in her own 
town for ten shillings. I asked her how she 
cooked them. She said she stuffed them with 
bread dressing, seasoned with onion, and baked 
them an hour and a half. Now this is my recipe : 
Draw out the entrails, and rinse the ducks ; but 
don't soak them, as some ignorant cooks do, or 
you will lose the juices. Kub inside with salt and 



OMELET AND DAINTY DISHES. 129 

pepper, and put in each duck a piece of butter 
the size of an egg, and a teaspoonful of red wine. 
Eoast twenty or twenty-five minutes. By no 
means allow the birds to be moved while roasting, 
lest their juices be spilled. When done they will 
be full of a bright red gravy. Kemove carefully 
to, and serve on, a hot dish. 

"'Terrapin gladdens the heart of an epicure, 
w^hen prepared according to this recipe : Put the 
terrapins in a pot of boiling water. Let them 
boil gently two hours, or until you can pick off 
the skin with ease. Then lift from the water, 
take off the under shell, pick the skin from the 
feet, and remove the gall and sand-bag, and, if 
you choose, the entrails. Pick the meat from the 
bones. Cut in small pieces. Mash the eggs and 
livers in the water that runs from the terrapin 
while picking it up, and mix with the meat. 
Place in a stew-pan or chafing-dish, season to 
taste with butter, salt, pepper, and Madeira 
wine, and stew for a few minutes — just long 
enouo'h to heat thorouo-hlv. About an ounce of 

O Of 

butter and a Avine-glass of wine to a pint of pre- 
pared meat are the proper proportions.' " 

"I presume Mrs. Eose's recipes are excellent, 
as she lived several years on the eastern shore of 
Maryland, w^here they are famous for serving such 
epicurean luxuries as canvas-back and terrapin, in 
the most approved manner. But let us get on 



130 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

with the letter : ^ I hope you will devote a chapter 
in your book to omelets. Did I ever tell you, it 
took me seven years to learn how to make an 
omelet? Now, I don't mean you to understand 
that I devoted my undivided time and attention to 
the study of omelets alone, during that period ; 
but as. occasion offered, during seven years, I 
tried various and varying recipes from at least a 
score of cook-books. As directed, I beat the eo-o^s 
together at one time, and beat them separately at 
another time. I put cream in some, and in some 
I minced ham, parsley, or onion. I made omelets 
as light as a puff and dry as a husk. I produced 
omelets soft and frothy, as well as omelets flabby 
and leathery. I concocted omelets that were cer- 
tainly first cousin to scrambled eggs ; and omelets 
more nearly related still to baked custard. But 
the omelet I was striving for, — the omelet I had 
found in my girlhood days at first-class hotels, and 
tables where I could not take the cook aside and 
ask how it was made, — this ideal omelet was not 
to be evolved from all the materials prescribed by 
these cook-books. Discouraged and disappointed 
I rested from my labors ; and Harry and I ate 
eggs boiled, poached, and scrambled. But at last 
I obtained the object of my endeavors. One 
morning I found upon the table of an intimate 
friend Uby omelet. ^' Did you make this ? " I asked, 
eagerly. " Tell me exactly how you did it. Begin 



OMELET AND DAINTY DISHES. 131 

at the beginning, and let me know every twist 
and turn of the process." " Why," she answered, 
with a complaisant smile, "it's the easiest thing in 
the Avorld. For my family I take five eggs. I 
break them into a bowl, and beat them with a 
sjDoon, lightly, until I can dip up a spoonful. I 
beat them only enough to break them up, and 
render them manageable. I have ready a little 
minced parsley, salt, and pepper. I place my 
omelet-pan, which is never used for any other 
purpose, with an ounce of sweet butter in it, on 
the stove ; and as soon as the Initter is hot, — be 
careful not to let it brown, — I pour the omelet, 
rinse the egg from the bowl with three teaspoon- 
fuls of sweet milk — cream is better — and pour 
it over the omelet in the pan. I then sprinkle in 
salt, pepper, and minced parsley, and set it to 
cook where it will have moderate heat. While 
cooking I stir it gently with a fork, and when 
almost done, place it for a moment where the heat 
is a little quicker, so it may brown lightly on the 
bottom. When ready to serve, I slip a knife- 
blade under one side, holding the pan slightly 
tipped, and fold the omelet over, leaving half the 
pan naked, and the omelet in the shape of a turn- 
over pie. And now comes the only difficult part 
of the operation — that of turning the omelet from 
the pan upon the platter. Don't forget to heat 
the platter, — a cold omelet isn't fit to eat. Hold 



132 COOIQNG AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

the pan close to, and partly over it. Give it a 
sudden dip — the pan, I mean — and a gentle 
flop, and there lies your omelet, just where you 
desired,— a neatly shaped, plump little thing, 
about three inches thick, moist, light, and, in my 
judgment, the best omelet that can be made." 

" ' I went home happy, intending to surprise 
Harry next morning with my ideal omelet — the 
dainty dish he had heard me talk about, and sigh 
for so often. But, alas, for human expectations ! 
I made the omelet, and hesitated not until the time 
to stir it came. Then a score of perplexing ques- 
tions arose. "Stir gently two or three times," 
was what my friend had said. But Avhat is stir- 
ring gently? Does to stir gently mean to stir 
slowly ? And how soon should I begin to stir ? 
And why stir with a fork ? As no one was present 
to answer these and the other questions that sug- 
gested themselves, I seized a fork and began 
stirring slowly, round and round. But the tines 
of the fork scratched over the bottom of the spi- 
der, and that seemed the only rcsidt of my labor. 
After waiting awhile, I stirred again. This time 
I found the egg adhering to the pan, and stirred 
more vigorously, thinking by so doing to accom- 
plish the desired object. But when I attempted 
to turn the omelet, it stuck fast, and wouldn't 
fold ; so I worried over and scraped at it, until 
all form and comeliness were lost, and it was 



OMELET AND DAIXTY DISHES. 133 

nothing but a shabby specimen of scrambled eggs. 
Then I generously left it all* for Bridget's break- 
fast. 

" 'In despair I went to my friend, who was sur- 
prised at my failure ; but, to my great delight, 
she said, " Stay to lunch, and I will make an ome- 
let so that you may see just how it is done." I 
watched carefully every movement, and kept say- 
ing, "/did precisely so," until stirring time came. 
Then my interest grew intense. Placing the 
omelet in the pan, she set it over moderate heat, 
and waiting just about a minute, dipped in the 
fork. Finding the egg had set, or slightly 
cooked upon the bottom of the pan, she lifted or 
picked it up, here and there, at various points, — 
each time raising her fork entirely out of the 
omelet, and dipping it in at another point. Light 
dawned. I saw the secret of the whole thing was 
in this peculiar moving of the omelet as it cooked ; 
and in my amazement, I exclaimed, "And that 
performance you call stirring ? I might have tried 
till doomsday, from your directions, and wouldn't 
have cooked the omelet properly." "AYell, if it 
isn't stirring — what is it? AVhat would you call 
it ? " " Lifting would express the idea more cor- 
rectly," I replied. "It is lifting the cooked egg 
that adheres to the pan, so that the uncooked egg 
may take its place. The egg forms a thin layer 
or cake on the pan, and dipping the fork in here 



134 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

and there at various points and lifting, loosens the 
whole mass. The eflects produced by stirring and 
liftmg are very different, and in the manfacture of 
an omelet are Very apparent." When a second 
layer had cooked, the lifting operation was re- 
peated, and so on until the cooked egg filled the 
pan, and there was no more to be let underneath. 
In this delicate process of lifting lies the whole 
secret of the operation. Done in this manner, 
the butter is not stirred away from the bottom of 
the pan, and enough remains to allow the omelet 
to brown nicely, and prevent it from sticking. 
Since that memorable day I have never failed in 
makins: an omelet that o'ave me entire satisfac- 
tion.' " 

"I had no idea," interrupted Emeline, "such 
m3^steries Avere hidden away in an omelet. Few 
of us, I fear, Avould labor as Mrs. Rose did to dis- 
cover them." 

■* No," I replied, " the most of us are too lazy 
or too careless to do so. We accept the indiffer- 
ent food that is placed before us, and grumble at 
the cook for selecting such unpalata])le dishes ; 
but never dream the wretched preparations can be 
improved upon. Mrs. Hose is an exceptional 
woman, who never rests satisfied with a dish that 
she thinks she can in any way improve. Pier 
omelets, I know, from having seen and tasted 
many of them, are unsurpassable. And I am not 



OMELET AND DAINTY DISHES. 135 

willing to believe any woman such a natural 
stupid as to be capable, after reading the' minute 
description given in these graphic exiieriences, 
of makins: a failure of an omelet. Her letter con- 
tinues : 

" ^ What do you think of this for salad dressing ? 
I have copied it from a recently published cook- 
book by a very popular writer. Plere is the dress- 
ing for " two full grown chickens and three launches 
of celery": "Two cups boiling water, two table- 
spoonfuls of corn-starch w^et with cold Vv^ater, two 
tablcspoonfuls of oil, one cup of vinegar, two tea- 
spoonfuls of made mustard, one great spoonful of 
fat, skimmed from the liquor in which the fowls 
were boiled, three raw eggs, three hard-boiled 
eggs, one teas2:)oonful powdered sugar, one tea- 
spoonful salt, one teaspoonful pepper, and one tea- 
spoonful AYorcestershire sauce." I prefer my 
salad with a less elaborate dressing. But there is 
no accounting for tastes, and there are persons, 
perhaps, who would relish such a concoction. 
This is the best recipe I know for oil dressing for 
chicken or other salad : For three chickens take 
the yolks of eio-ht fresh e£r2:s. Put them in an 
earthen bowl, and Avith a silver spoon stir gently 
and slowly, round and round. Don't beat them. 
Drop in oil, drop by drop at first, then in small 
quantities, and very slowly, until in the course of 
an hour you have used the whole bottle of oil. 



136 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

At last add three tablespoonfuls of vinegar, two 
of mad'e mustard, a teaspoonful of salt, and cay- 
enne pepper to taste, continuing the stirring 
slowly all the while. Prepare the chickens by 
boiling whole. Salt the w^ater in which they boil, 
yevy slightly. Cut the chickens when cold into 
small bits, half an inch in length, and reject tlie 
skin and fibrous pieces. Cut the celery in pieces 
the same size, and have two-thirds as much celery 
as chicken. Put the chicken and celery, when 
thus prepared, in an earthen bowl, and mix well 
w^ith a fork. Add the dressing just before serv- 
ing.' " 

" I have no doubt Mrs. Pose's recipe for salad 
dressing is very nice, and for those Avho like oil, 
unexceptionable. In my cook-book, in connec- 
tion with hers, I will give the following recipe : 
Take the yolks of eight fresh eggs, and one gill 
each of strong cider-vinco-ar and water. Heat, to 
boiling, the vinegar and water, and pour slowly 
over the beaten yolks, continuing to beat while 
adding the hot liquid. Put the mixture in an 
earthen bowl, and set on the range or stove, in a 
pan of boiling water. Let the water boil around 
the bowl until the contents are cooked. Stir fre- 
quently, and after it begins to thicken, continu- 
ously, until done, when remove at once, and con- 
tiaue the stirring for a minute, while cooling. Do 
not cook it enough to curdle it. Add mustard, 



OMELET AND DAINTY DISHES. 137 

pepper, and salt, to taste. When cold, thin to the 
consistency desired with sweet cream. If cream 
cannot be had, Tidd an ounce of butter while the 
dressing is hot ; and use sweet milk to thin it 
when cold. This dressing may be kept in a cool 
place several days. But when so kept, the cream 
or milk must not be added till wanted for use. It 
is excellent for cold slaw, lettuce, etc. 

"Kate, don't forget to give a recipe for frizzling 
beef, in your book," said Emeline, as I laid down 
Mrs. Eose's letter. " Frizzled beef is a dish much 
used in warm weather, especially by country 
people, and, although so simple, it is often unfit 
to eat by reason of being badly prepared. Instead 
of being shaved, the beef is cut in thick slices or 
chunks, and the outer rind left on, which gives it, 
when cooked, a strong, rank taste. It is then 
boiled in a quantity of water until all the juice is 
extracted, and the meat rendered touo-h and in- 
sipid, and flour and strong butter is added to make 
gravy ; or the water is allowed to boil away, and is 
replaced Avith skimmed milk. As fond as I am of 
frizzled beef, I confess I have no relish for it when 
prepared in the ordinary slip-shod method. 

" I am glad you mentioned this delicious l)reak- 
fast dish. You shall have some in a few days, 
cooked according to my recipe. Here it is : Cut 
away all the rind, or dried skin, from as much of 
the meat as you wish to use. It can then be 



138 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

shaved or sliced easily, and as thin as desired, if a 
sharp, thin-hladed knife be used. Put a piece of 
butter in the pan in which it is to be cooked ; and 
when the butter is boiling hot, throw in tl>e shaved 
beef. Place over a quick fire, and with a fork 
stir it constantly, to prevent burning. As soon 
as it looks frizzled or cooked, remove to a cooler 
place. Dash in a spoonful of flour. Mix well by 
stirring'. Then add a little svv'eet milk. The 
amount of butter and milk used must be regulated 
by the c[uantity of meat, as in frizzled beef one 
wants no grav}^ independent of beef — the beef 
and gravy should be so assimilated as to render a 
separation almost impossible. Beef will cook or 
frizzle l)y this method in two minutes. Dried 
mutton, veal, etc., are very -nice when cooked 
this way. Many persons think a little dried Hver, 
shaved in the same manner as the beef, and cooked 
with it, improves the dish. Be careful to have 
all mould and outside skin pared or scraped off 
before putting the meat in the pan, as a very little 
mould will impart a disagreeable flavor to a large 
dish of frizzled beef." 

"But, Cousin Kate," interrupted Alice, "ma 
appears to take so much interest 'in culinary mat- 
ters this morning, that Pm afraid, unless some one 
makes a move, the greater part of the day will 
pass before we finish breakfast." . And she left us 
and tripped lightly up stairs to her room. 



OMELET AND DAINTY DISHES. 139 

After her dcpiirture, I said to Emeline, "I 
have a letter here from my old friend Jennie — I 
mean Mrs. Douglas — in which she writes : ' Be 
not startled if we should surprise you somq. fine 
morning, by dropping in upon you at Maplewood. 
How charming it will be to find you in the old 
home to welcome us. Don't think of going sooner 
than you intended because of our anticipated re- 
turn. Gerald joins me in insisting that you and 
your friends shall remain, as 3^ou proposed, till 
autumn. You mention these friends simply as 
" oMrs. Eichmond and dau2:hter." Have I ever met 
them ? The name has a familiar sound ; and yet 
I can't recall them.'" 

"How annoying!" said Emeline. "To be 
tiir^.cd out of such comfortable quarters before we 
get fi^irly started at our literary labors, is really 
too bad. But, of course, we must go. I couldn't 
think of remaining, under all the circumstances." 

Questioning in my mind what m^^stic meaning 
might be hidden in the latter part of her sentence, 
I replied : " Don't decide upon anything hastily ; 
and say nothing to Alice, at present, about the 
matter. Because, as Jennie writes, Gerald's 
moods may change, — he is so restless and un- 
happy, — and with them, all their plans. If they 
decide positively to come home, she promises to 
give ample notice before they sail. I dare say, 
however, they'll remain abroad another year." 



140 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 



CHAPTER IX. 

IN THE ORCHARD. 

We were in the orchard looking for apples to 
eat, to bake, and to make into pies ; and with 
baskets well tilled with Sweets, and Codlings, and 
Queens, Emeline and I sat under the shade of a 
tree, while Alice wandered farther on in search of 
fruit that was rosier-cheeked, or more golden, than 
any we had gathered. 

" Did it ever occur to you, Kate," said Emeline, 
breakhig the silence into which we had fallen, 
"that" there is a universal disposition among all 
classes of people to wait on the future, and make 
little account of the present? Most of us fail to 
enjoy the present, we are so occupied in preparing 
for the future. In consequence of this feeling we 
store our closets with preserved fruits, which are 
in a measure dead fruits, the life, the pure air and 
sunshine havinsr been crushed and cooked out of 
them in the process of canning and preserving. 
When winter comes our cellars are filled with 
fragrant, delicious apples ; so full of goodness that 
they make the atmosphere, even of a close, damp 
cellar, redolent of sweetness. But, in our blind 



IN THE ORCHARD. 141 

stupidity, we pass by, with a careless word of 
commendation, the very prince of fruits, the apple, 
leaving it to wither and decay, while we feed on 
the husks of the past, the cherries and berries 
and peaches and plums that we have canned and 
preserved and pickled. How foolish it does seem 
to neglect the apple, when it is in its very prime, 
through the fall and winter months, for these 
fussed-up favorites, which are far less nutritious ; 
and Vv'hich we ate far too sparingly in their natural 
state, and while in season, during the sultry sum- 
mer-time." 

"Yes, Emeline, it often seems to me that in 
caring for the future we waste much of the present. 
Do you know, by the way, some wise people 
hold that apples contain all forms or kinds of 
nutriment essential to sustain and nourish our 
bodies, and that we can live and thrive upon apples 
alone, if we use them cooked and uncooked, as 
food ? For the past week I have been thinking 
about the best methods of canning, preserving, 
and cooking fruits, and the very thoughts you ex- 
press have occurred to me. If people were wise 
enough to eat plentifully of the different kinds of 
fruits in their proper season, there would be com- 
paratively little need of canning and preserving, 
in many sections of our country." 

"You may be correct in your views, Kate ; but 
since people will can and preserve fruits for some 



142 COOKING AND CASTLE- BUILDING. 

generations yet, I hope you will tell them how to 
do it according to the best methods. Many per- 
sons care little for cooked apples, I' think, for the 
simple reason that they are generally cooked so 
wretchedly. Sometimes we get them half-baked, 
and at others w^e have them in a wishy-washy, 
watery sauce, so overdosed with sugar and nut- 
meg, or other heavy spices, that they nauseate 
delicate stomachs." 

" Thank you, Emeline. You give me a hint for 
my book : Never sj^ice fruits lest you destroy their 
flavor, I always detested nutmeg, allspice, and 
cinnamon, in apple-pies. I now see the reason. 
Rich spices and delicate-flavored fruits form an 
unsuitable and inartistic combination. Heavy 
spices belong legitimately to heavy sweetness, such 
as cake, custard, and pumpkin-pie. But the line, 
delicate flavor of fruits should be preserved as 
perfectly as possible ; and for this reason they 
should never be cooked in tin, or stirred with a 
metal spoon less pure than silver. A wooden 
spoon or spatula is the best for the purpose. 

"These are the directions I shall give : If it is 
desirable to add to the flavor of the fruit you are 
cooking, add the flavor of another fruit. For 
instance, flavor apples with either pineapple, 
strawberry, raspberry, quhice, lemon, or orange, 
etc. Even the perfume of flowers, like, rose- 
water, may add to the dellciousness of a dish of 



IN THE ORCHARD. 143 

fruit. But to bury roses in cake, seems as inap- 
propriate and unnatural as to clcaclen fruit with 
spices. In cooking fruits of all sorts, whether for 
present or future use, aim to preserve the flavor of 
the fruit as far as possible ; and to this end, avoid 
all contact with tin or base metal, and all needless 
exposure to the air. Cook as soon as possible 
after the fruit is in proper condition. Cook in 
small quantities. Simmer gently, instead of boil- 
ing rapidly. The flavor of some fruits is pre- 
served better bv cannins: them without su^^ar. 
Peaches and blackberries' are finer flavored when 
canned without sugar. At the time of opening 
and serving, sugar can be added, if desired. 
Currants and raspberries, when made into jams 
and jellies, should be simmered until nearly 
cooked before the sugar is added. 

' " There is a general impression that sugar is 
required for canning fruit. This is a mistake. 
The conveniences for canning are so perfect now- 
adays that it is not necessary to add sugar to fruit 
for the purpose of preserving, but only to render 
it palatable. All fruits wdll keep perfectly w^ell 
without sugar, v/hcn properly canned. They 
should be put up boiling hot, in air-tight glass 
cans; and, unless placed in a dark closet, should 
l)e wrapped in thick brow^n or dark paper, to 
exclude the light, which changes the color of 
some fruits, and injures the flavor of others. 



144 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

Strawberries, and perhaps some other very acid 
fruits, are best when sugar is added at the time of 
cooking. Emeline, have you ever seen in any 
cook-book a recipe for making mushes or jellies 
of fruit b}^ the addition of arrowroot, corn-starch, 
or wheat flour ? " 

"No, I never heard of such a thing until you 
served us those delicious strawberry, raspberr}^ 
and blackberry mushes, as you called them. And 
you have never yet given us the method of pre- 
paring them. Will you repeat it for my benefit?" 

"To a quart of berries, fresh or canned, add a 
joint of water, and sugar to taste. Boil slightly, 
just enough to cook the fruit ; and when nearly 
done, add corn-starch, arrowroot, or wheat flour, 
w^et with cold water, to thicken the juice and 
form a mush or jelly of the fruit. Serve cold, 
with sweet cream." 

"Kate, I never ate a more delicate, delicious 
dessert than these fruit mushe?, and they alone 
ought to render your book popular. What a 
charming dish for children and invalids, either 
strawberr3\ raspberry, or blackberry mush must 
make ! I am surprised I never heard of fruit- 
mush before this summer."' 

"Emeline, I think currant jam very much 
nicer than currant jell^^ It has a fresher, better 
flavor, which I presume is on account of its not 
bcim^ beaten and bruised, and then squeezed 



IN THE ORCHARD. 145 

through a rag. For jam, bruise the fruit in an 
earthen bowl, just enough to break the skins and 
set the juice free. Put in a preserving-kettle. 
Simmer gently for twenty minutes, skimming 
carefully, after it begins to boil. At the expira- 
tion of the twenty minutes add three-fourths of a 
pound of white sugar to each pint of crushed 
currants. Simmer two or three minutes lonfirer, 
and put in glass cans or jars. One part red rasp- 
berries to four parts currants, changes, and, for 
many persons, improves the flavor." 

"A great many ladies," observed Emeline, 
" have trouble in making jelly ; and I hope you 
will be able to make clear the reason why it some- 
times is jelly and sometimes is not, when precisely 
the same method is folloAved." 

" The same method might be followed in mak- 
ing," I replied, " and yet very different conditions 
exist. For instance, the fruit might have been 
gathered at the w^rong time, or the sugar have 
been imperfect. Currants should be gathered for 
jelly before they are full}' ripe ; as soon as red, 
and soft enough for the juice to run freely. 
Bruise the currants and squeeze through a strong 
cloth. Measure the juice, and put not more than 
five pints in the preserving-kettle at once. Sim- 
mer gently for twenty minutes after it begins to 
simmer, skimming it meanwhile. Then add one 
pound of best loaf sugar for each pint of juice. 



146 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

Stir, and as soon as perfectly dissolved, and the 
jelly has boiled up once, remove and put into 
glasses. Cover when cold. It is well to warm 
the sugar while the juice is simmering, as that 
hastens the process. AVhen the fruit is gathered 
at the right time, and the sugar perfect in quality, 
this method will always insure perfect jelly, of a 
beautiful color." 

"Kate, as your skill is to be tested to-day in 
making my favorite among pies, I shall, when we 
go into the house, read you what Beecher, in 
'Eyes and Ears,' says on the subject of apple-pie." 

When our pie was placed on the table at dinner, 
Emeline got her book and read, — 

"There is, for example, one made without 
under-crust, in a deep plate, and the apples laid 
in in full quarters; or the apples, being stewed, 
are beaten to a mush and seasoned and put be- 
tween the double paste ; or they are sliced thin 
and cooked entirely within the covers ; or they are 
put, without seasoning, into their bed, and when 
baked, the upper lid is raised and the butter, nut- 
meg, cinnamon, and sugar are added, the whole 
w^ell mixed, and the crust returned as if nothing 
happened. But oh, be careful of the paste ! Let 
it be not like putty, nor rush to the other extreme, 
and make it so flaky that one holds his breath while 
eating, for fear of blowing it away. Let it not be 



IN THE ORCHARD. 147 

plain as bread, nor yet rich like cake. Aim at that 
glorious medium in which it is tender, without 
being too fugaciously flaky ; short, without being 
too short; a mild, sapid, brittle thing, that lies 
npon the tongue, so as to let the apple strike 
through and touch the papilloe w^th a more afiluent 
flavor. But this, like all high art, must be a 
thing of inspiration or instinct. A true cook will 
understand us, and we care not if others do not ! 
" Do not sir[:)pose that we limit the apple-pie to 
the kinds and methods enumerated. Its capacity 
in variation is endless, and every diversity discov- 
ers some new charm or flavor. It will accept 
almost every flavor of every spice. And yet 
nothing is so fatal to the rare and higher graces 
of apple-pie as inconsiderate, vulgar spicing. It 
is not meant to be a mere vehicle for the exhibi- 
tion of these spices, in their own natures ; it is a 
glorious unity, in which sugar gives up its nature 
as sugar, and butter ceases to be butter, and each 
flavorsome spice gladly vanishes from its own full 
nature, that all of them, by a common death, may 
rise into the new life of apple-pie ! Not that 
apple is longer apple ! It, too, is transformed ; 
and the final pic, though born of apple, sugar, 
butter, nutmeg, cinnamon, lemon, is like none of 
these, but the compound ideal of them all, re- 
fined, purified, and by fire fixed in blissful per- 
fection." 



148 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

"Now," remarked Emeline, "let us see if this 
is equal to H. W. B.'s ideal pie ! " 

As she pressed the upper-crust gently with the 
pie-knife, the merest drop of candied juice appeared 
between its parted lips ; and, although she lifted 
a piece to another plate with a quick, dexterous 
movement, a spoon was needed to dip from the 
pie-dish some juice, unavoidably spilled in the 
operation. Helping each of us in a similar man- 
ner, Emeline ate a minute in silence, and then 
said, with a satisfied air, — 

"Had brother Beecher eaten one of your pies, 
Kate, before he wrote that essay on apple-pie, he 
would not for the world have mentioned nutmeg, 
allspice, or cinnamon, in connection with apple- 
pie. He would have known they were of the 
earth earthy, mere 'inconsiderate, vulgar spic- 
ing; 'good enough, perhaps, for uncultivated or 
depraved tastes ; but not like this, hinting of 
oranofe-srroves and fairer climes, — a combination 
of flavors and fragrance unknown to common 
mortals, who have never enjoyed such a perfect 
pie as the one now before us. Do tell us how this 
was fashioned, created, built up into such com- 
pleteness ? " 

"Then, I suppose you wish to know, in the first 
place, how the crust is made?" 

" Certainly. That is the body or flesh of a pie. 
The fruit is the heart, soul, and spirit. I wish to 



IN THE ORCHARD. 149 

know how the crust and the fruit are compounded ; 
how dough and apple are metamorphosed mto a 
perfect apple-pie." 

" To make pie-crust, one pound of flour, a 
quarter pound of lard, a quarter pound of butter, 
a glass of cold water, a cool pantry or room, and 
quick movements, are essential. Place half the 
flour in a little heap on the moulding-board. Cut 
the lard into, and through, it, until quite fine. 
Add cold water, and stir with the knife. When 
wet and quite soft, scrape from the board to one 
side. Sift from the other half of the flour upon 
the board, till well covered. Lay the dough on 
it. Eoll it out, but be careful not to get it too 
thin. Spread half the butter over it, and then 
cover the butter with flour. Fold, and roll out. 
Put on the remaining butter, and cover witli flour. 
Fold, and roll quite thin. Sift flour lightly on it. 
Fold, or roll up, and lay it aside. Take a little 
more than a fourth of the whole for one crust. 
Flour the board and dough, and roll to the size 
required. Place upon the tin or dish, shaping to 
the same, and cut ofi" around the edge with a sharp 
knife. Fill the pie with quarters ; or, if the 
apples are large, with eighths, of tart apples. 
Poll an upper-crust, and lay it over the apples. 
Trim it around the edges as before, but do not 
pinch the two crusts together. If you wish to 
ornament the crust, let the cuts or marks be upon 



150 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

the upper surface only. Do not cut through so 
as to make holes at which the steam can escape. 
Place the pie in a hot oven, so that the paste will 
bake quickly. When thoroughly baked, if the 
apples are not perfectly cooked, which can be 
easily ascertained by lifting the upper-crust at 
one side and peeping in, lessen the heat, or trans- 
fer to a cooler oven, until done. If necessary, you 
can protect the crust, with paper, from becoming 
too brown." 

"Don't you put water in to cook the apples?" 
interrupted Alice. 

"No. The apples are sufficiently juicy to cook 
themselves, if the steam and juice are kept con- 
fined in the pie, as they will be, if no holes are 
cut or pricked in the upper-crust. While the pie 
is baldng, put in a cup or small stew-pan the 
suo-ar required for it, two or three ounces if the 
apples are tart, as they should be, a small piece of 
butter, and the juice of an orange, with a very 
little of the outside grated, if you like it. Melt 
all together ; and, when the pie comes from the 
oven, slip it from the tin or dish on which it was 
baked, to the warmed plate on which it is to be 
served. Lift off the upper-crust. Pour your 
seasoning over the apple, distributing it evenly ; 
replace the upper-crust, press it gently, and, in 
one hour the pic is at its best. A pie baked in 
this manner does not, however, lose its goodness 



IN THE ORCHARD. 151 

within an hour. The next clay, and the day after 
even, you. will find it something more than 'a 
corpse of an apple-pic.' For four pies, if the 
apples are not very tart, and you like a rich pie, 
use the juice of one lemon with that of two oranges 
and a little grated peel, adding sugar in propor- 
tion. Most delicious apple-pies are made by 
using one grated pineapple to four pies. Place 
the grated pineapple with the butter and sugar 
in the stew-pan, and heat to boiling, then 
add as befoi*e, laying it lightly and evenly over 
the apple, which is permeated by the mixture, 
without being stirred." 

"Mamma," said Alice, "you have heard of 
cambric tea. Did you ever hear of linen pie ? " 

" Oh, yes. I have heard people call hot water, 
with cream and sugar to taste, by that name. 
They say Horace Greeley used to consider cambric 
tea a delightful beverage. I drink it sometimes 
myself; but I believe I have never tasted linen 
pie. How is it made ? " 

" Cousin Kate makes it in this way. Instead of 
filling her pie-crust with apple, or other fruit, she 
fills it with pieces of old white linen, and bakes. 
Meanwhile, on the range she prepares the fruit, if 
it is desirable to cook it ; and, when the crust is 
baked, she slips it on a plate, lifts ofi* the upper- 
crust, takes out the rags, and fills their place with 
the juicy fruit, which couldn't possibly be baked 



152 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

in the pie, without losing a large portion of the 
juice, and spoiling the looks, as well as the taste 
of the pie. At dinner every one who doesn't un- 
derstand the trick wonders how so juicy a pie was 
so perfectly baked. And no one can imagine how 
the upper-crust was baked so rich and brown, 
without being stained with juice, and the under- 
crust so crisp, without being soaked or heavy. 
To the uninitiated it is no doubt as great a marvel 
as the apple inside the dumpling was to the be- 
wildered king, who asked, amazed, ' How got the 
apple in ? ' " 

"There is another advantage, Alice," I said, 
" in baking these linen pies. Several crusts may 
be baked and put away for a day or two unfilled ; 
and an hour or two before serving, if placed for a 
few minutes in a hot oven, until warmed tlirough, 
and then filled with fresh fruit, they can scarcely 
be distinguished from freshly baked pies. These 
linen pies are just the things to fill with straw- 
berries or other fruit which is good uncooked. 

"To change the subject a little, Emeline, I 
agree fully with the remark you made this morn- 
ing, that few persons care for cooked apples, be- 
cause they are, as a general thing, so poorly 
cooked. Tlie apple, although it contains so many 
elements of goodness, is one of our most abused 
fruits. As a general rule, it is shabbily treated 
in every process of cooking it is compelled to 



IN THE ORCHAED. 153 

undergo. It is badly ])aked, and wretchedly 
stewed. It is diluted with water, or dosed with 
sugar, or doctored with spices, until all the orig- 
inal flavor is lost, or spoiled. But, in spite of all 
this bad usage, the apple has retained a place in 
the culinary department, and is destined, as soon 
as we learn how to cook it properly, to grow into 
universal favor, and become a prominent article 
of diet at every well-ordered table." 

"Many persons," observed Emeline, "are of 
opinion that only sweet apples are good for bak- 
ing. I, however, like a tart apple, when baked, 
much better than I do a sweet one. Which do 
you prefer, Kate ? And what is your method of 
baking apjjles ? " 

" I very much prefer sour apples. And this, I 
think, is the best way of baking them : Take 
large, juicy sour apples. Pare them, and remove 
the cores, leaving the apples whole ; place them 
in a deep earthen dish ; add to them one table- 
spoonful of water ; put them in a hot oven, and 
bake until perfectly soft and tender. A fcAV min- 
utes before removing from the oven, sprinkle 
them lightly witli white sugar. They will then 
brown richly, and have a delicious flavor. Serve 
warm, hot, or cold, according to taste. Most 
people soon grow so fond of them as to eat them 
with their meats and vegetables ; and also to take 



154 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUTLDINO. 

them, garnished with sugar and cream , for dessert, 
in preference to either pudding or pie. 

"To bake apples whole, remove all imperfect 
spots or specks ; pierce the skins in sundry places 
with a fork ; place in an earthen pan or dish, and 
bake in a hot oven. An apple baked quickly, 
with all the heat it can bear, is very different from 
one baked in a moderate oven. The' former is 
spicy and full of spirit, while the latter tastes as 
if all life had been worried out of it by slow tor- 
ture. 

"Apple sauce, as usually made, is scarcely fit 
to eat ; yet, when properly prepared, it is one of 
the most delicious dishes of which I have any 
knowledge. Apples should always be stewed in 
a porcelain-lined kettle, — never in a vessel made 
of tin. Very little water should be added to 
them ; and they should not be stirred, if possible 
to avoid it, while cooking. They should be cov- 
ered closely, and cooked quickly ; and should be 
watched all the time while cooking, lest they burn. 
When done, the sugar required should be put into 
an earthen bowl, and the apple poured over it, 
and covered closely until served. Stewed apple 
that is continually stirred while cooking, is not 
spicy and high-flavored, like that quickly and 
quietly cooked. If desired to flavor apple sauce 
with lemon, slice the lemon and put in the dish 
with sugar, and pour the hot sauce upon it. 



IN THE OECIIAKD. 155 

Stewed prunes, flavored in the same way with 
lemon, I think are much improved. Cooking 
lemon damages the flavor. As a usual thing, too 
much sugar is used ; so much, in fact, that all 
apple flavor is lost in the heavy sweetness. To 
preserve the perfect flavor of stewed apples, or 
apple sauce, great care is required in the judicious 
use of sugar or spices." 

"By the way," said Emeline, "I have some- 
where eaten a pudding made of apples and tap- 
ioca, that I thought very nice. Have you ever 
made it?" 

" Oh, yes," I replied. " Such a pudding, when 
properly made, and served cold, is a very delicate 
dessert. I think to serve it warm, however, as it 
is often served, is as poor taste as to serve a cus- 
tard pudding warm. To make tapioca pudding, 
use five measures of cold water to one measure 
of tapioca. Let it soak over night, or for several 
hours ; then cook it until it looks clear and trans- 
parent. While the tapioca is cooking, pare and 
core some large greenings, or other tart apples. 
Leave the apples whole. Place them close to- 
gether in a deep earthen dish, and pour the tap- 
ioca over them. Bake thoroughly, until the 
apples brown ovei* the top. When quite cold, 
serve with sugar and sweet cream. 

" Another tapioca pudding which is very nice, 
is made by soaking half a pint of tapioca over 



156 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

night in two quarts cold water. In the morn- 
ing drain, and boil until cooked in two quarts 
sweet milk. Salt slightly. Remove from the fire, 
and add slowly the well-beaten yolks of eight 
eggs. Stir rapidly while adding the egg. Lastly, 
sweeten to taste. When cool, flavor with vanilla, 
lemon, or wine. Beat the whites of the eggs stiff, 
add pulverized sugar, and serve with the pud- 
ding." 

"Kate, I notice people eat much more fruit than 
they used to, with their meals. A few years ago 
one never saw melons, peaches, grapes, berries, 
or any kind of fruit at meal-time, except as 
dessert for dinner. Now, a great many families 
make the principal part of their breakfast of such 
articles, and also eat liberally of them at their 
other meals." 

"Yes, I am glad to see the improvement in 
this respect. Nearly all, perhaps all classes of 
people crave green food ; and it seems to me the 
craving ought to be gratified, by their making 
fruits and vegetables a part of their regular daily 
diet. When people eat freely of fruits, at their 
regular meals, as they do other articles of diet, 
they have little disposition to indulge in the in- 
jurious habit of eating between meals ; while, on 
the other hand, in families where such things are 
seldom served at meal-time, men, women, and 
children hanker after unripe fruit even ; and ren- 



IN THE ORCHARD. 157 

der themselves liable to all manner of diseases by 
eating green apples, half-ripe cherries and berries, 
and trash generally. 

"In one of her letters to me, Mrs. Eose writes : 
* I never put sugar on berries for tea. It spoils 
the shape of the berries to let them lie in or under 
sugar.' Now, there is no doubt it spoils the shape 
of berries to sugar them ; but, for most persons, 
it improves the flavor to sprinkle them with sugar 
ten or fifteen minutes before the berries are served. 
No one disputes the orthodoxy of Mr. Beecher's 
opinions on gustatory matters, however much they 
may differ from him on theological subjects, and 
he approves of mashing them even. He says : 
'Put ripe berries in a dish, add a little cold water, 
break them down with a spoon to a jelly, adding 
just enough sugar and water to make them half 
liquid, and you shall find many another dish less 
delicious.' This disposition to preserve the shape 
of articles of food is quite prevalent among house- 
wives ; and the taste of many a dish is sacrificed, 
in order that it may make a handsome appearance 
on the table. Fruits, grains, and vegetables are 
too often purposely sent to table half cooked, so 
that the shape may not be spoiled. In all such 
cases the eye is gratified at the expense of the 
stomach. The idea that these articles, when ready 
for the table, should present the same form and 
appearance as when uncooked, is, in my judgment, 



158 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

a very erroneous one. Food of every kind should 
be thoroughly cooked — even though in the oper- 
ation all form and comeliness be destroyed — as it 
is then more palatable and nutritious to healthy 
stomachs. There is, however, a vast difference 
between thorousfh cookino: and too much cookino:. 
Food is as effectually spoiled by too much as by 
too little cooking ; and any one wishing to excel 
in culinarj^ science must note carefully the dis- 
tinction, and strike the happy medium. If veg- 
etables were properly cooked, and fruits properly 
prepared for the table, they could scarcely fail to 
be always acceptable to the average appetite, and 
would soon force themselves into general use. I 
may be too enthusiastic ; but I look forward hope- 
fully to the time when they will be so cooked and 
prepared ; and when cartloads of vegetables will 
be consumed where an occasional mess is now 
deemed sufficient ; and when fruits, cooked and 
uncooked, v^ill be considered as essential to a 
meal as bread or meat." 

After dinner Emeline and I were on the veranda, 
chatting in an indolent, indifferent way, on various 
topics, when Alice aj^peared with the small gilt- 
edged volume, and interrupted us by saying, — 

" Mamma, I've brought this * Memoir of Helen 
Douglas,' to read you some extracts. I have 
always detested memoirs, and thought them the 
stupidest of books, calculated only to bore amia- 



m THE ORCHAED. 159 

ble and wcll-clisposed people. But this differs in 
that respect from the usual memoir. I have 
marked some passages that I think suggestive as 
well as beautiful. Shall I read them to you ? " 

" By all means, if Cousin Kate doesn't object," 
was Emelinc's reply. 

"Cousin Kate," I said, "will be delighted to 
hear them." 

Alice then read : — 

" ' To the average mind the idea of immortal life 
presents itself simply as a continuation, after 
death, of the life we hav6 lived in this world, 
extending through eternity; free, however, from 
all the cares and sorrows, all the pains and infirm- 
ities, of this mortal existence. But if we retain 
our personal consciousness in eternity, will we 
not retain also the faculties that were essential to 
our development jn time? Or will all our emo- 
tions, passions, feelings, be sloughed off with our 
flesh by death ? How will we recognize beyond 
the grave those whom we loved so fondly here ? 
Will my lost Helen meet me years hence the same 
gentle being that went from my sorrowing gaze ? 
Or will she be changed, re-created, formed anew? 
How slyill I know her 

" in the land that keeps 

Tlie disembodied spirits of the dead " ? 

Or what assurance have I that our love shall not 



160 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

change with a change of existence? O God, 
why am I tormented with these painful question- 
ings ? ' 

"'Whence do w^e come, or whither do we go? 
No one can answer satisfactorily. It is an unsolv- 
able riddle. All guesswork, speculation. Joy 
and happiness are mere illusions — the flickering 
sunshine of a moment. Pain is a reality. The 
only tangible thing in life is suflering, sorrow.' 

"'Since Helen died, all things seem changed. 
When she was alive I looked eagerly forward. 
The future seemed bright and beckoning. So full 
of great hopes, of grand possibilities. My hours 
were crowded with work. The days were too 
short to satisfy me, I had so much to do. Now I 
dare not look backward, I care not to look for- 
ward. To do either seems like .peering into the 
gloom of a winter's night. The present is full of 
heaviness. I cannot set myself to any task, and 
thus escape from my great grief, for nothing now 
seems worth the doing.' 

" ' Will the days ever come when I can realize — 

" 'Tis better to bare loved and lost, 
Thau never to liave loved at all " ? 

Life is poor and barren without love ; but how 
painfully desolate it becomes after the loss of the 



IN THE ORCHARD. 161 

one loved better than fill else on earth ! I was the 
victim of unrest before love entered, and took 
possession of my heart ; nevertheless, I was nega- 
tively happy. Now, my days and nights are filled 
to overflowing with sorrow. A weary life is mine 
to bear.' 

"'Now that Helen has been torn from me, after 
so short a season of unalloyed happiness, I tremble 
at the thought of annihilation, and refuse to be- 
lieve the gloomy doctrine. Yet, I can find no 
satisfying evidence of the solil's immortality, — 
nothing to convince my mind, beyond a doubt, 
that there is a world and a life beyond the tomb. 
Love, however, uproots disbelief. Selfishness is 
more satisfying than reason. The yearning to be 
again with Helen dispels doubt, and overturns 
argument. We must, we will, meet again. But 
is this life to be projected into the next, with all 
its hates, as well as all its loves ? If with the one, 
why not with the other? And why should a con- 
tinuation of such a mutual love as ours be vouch- 
safed to us, if thousands are doomed to go wailing 
through eternity, sorrowing for an unrequited or 
a hopelessly lost afiection? Oh, Helen, Helen, 
why did we ever love ? ' 

"'The death of Helen was so sudden, so unex- 
pected, that I was nearly bereft of reason by the 



162 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

terrible blow. I was sometimes saddened by the 
thought of dying and leaving her alone in the 
■world ; but I had never thought of death in con- 
nection with Helen. It is ever thus in life. The 
evils we apprehend, and most dread, are seldom 
the ones that befall us. Fate seems to delight in 
taking us by surprise, — in tripping us suddenly 
into an unseen abyss.' 

" ^ Oh, my lost, loved one ! Is there anything 
in life that can compensate for the agonies I have 
suffered since yourii-ail, inanimate form w%as car- 
ried to the snow-covered graveyard? The world 
may be full of beauty, but I neither see nor enjoy 
it without you. Why was I permitted to love 
you with such an all-absorbing love, that when 
you went out of life you took with you all its sun- 
shine and fragrance ? Can it be that "He doeth 
all things well ? " Though my lips give utterance 
to the expression, my heart refuses to acknowl- 
edsre His 2:oodness. Wherein lies the c^oodness 
of the blow that has so cruelly deprived me of my 
earthly treasure ? Does such merciless sorrow as 
mine benefit me, or the world? Is it essential to 
the happiness of a future life, that this one should 
be so full of suffering ? ' 

"* To-day I gazed down from the mountain-tops 
upon a scene of surpassing loveliness. And I 



IN THE ORCHARD. 163 

asked, How many men and women within the 
whole scope of my vision are capable of enjoying 
this glorious prospect? Not the weary laborers, 
who are toiliniir and sweatini2: in the fields to earn 
a bare subsistence ; not the wealthy possessors of 
all these fiirms and houses, who are insanely strug- 
o:lin<2: to amass more and more wealth ; nottheaimless 
wanderers, with bli2:hted or broken lives, vainlv 
endeavoring to flee away from their own Avretch- 
edness. A favored few there may be, perhaps, 
who enjoy it in a measure. But even they have 
no lease of happiness, and no security for their 
enjoyment continuing beyond the passing moment. 
Those who are happiest to-day may to-morrow be 
overwhelmed with grief as crushing and poignant 
as mine. Why, then, do we exist? Or why 
were we created ? Why are the vast majority of 
the earth's inhabitants born only to struggle and 
toil, to sufi*er and weep ? Can it be that we are 
born for a brief life, filled mostly with unhappi- 
ness, or, at the best, with only negative happi- 
ness, and that we then drop out of existence for- 
ever ? ' 

" ^ This morning the preacher took for a text, " It 
is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living 
God." And his sermon seemed to me like blas- 
phemy. Are we not always in God's hands? 
Does he "ever let any one drop out of his protect- 



1G4 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

ing arms ? Can it be that we slip from his grasp 
when death overtakes us? Banish the thought. 
I will not entertain it. The preacher did not 
realize what he said. It would be a fearful thing 
to fall out of the hands of the living God. Only 
in his loving embrace do we rest secure.'" 

" ' The Meditations of Gerald Douglas,' it seems 
to me," interrupted Emeline, " would be a more 
appropriate title for the volume than ^ A Memoir 
of Helen Douoflas.' " 

"O no, ma," said Alice, "I have only read you 
some of the reflections suggested to his mind while 
preparing the memoir of his dead wife. Let me 
read you a portion of the memoir itself." 

" Not now, Alice," was the quiet reply of her 
mother ; " it is no doubt beautifully written, but I 
think you have read enough for the present. Let 
us take a ramble." 



EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 165 



CHAPTER X. 

EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 

" Egg-plant ? " interrogatively remarked Cousin 
Emeline, as we took our seats at the table. "Tliis 
must be a new and early variety ? " 

''Yes," I replied, as I passed her a slice of the 
fried vegetable. "I wish your opinion as to 
whether it is equal in quality to that which comes 
later in the season." 

There was a merry twinkle in Alice's eye, which 
her mother did not notice, as she answered, — 

" Whv, this is delicious ! I never ate finer esrsf- 
plant. Indeed, I think this has a delicacy of flavor 
I never before observed in the vegetable. Have 
you some new process of cooking it, by which you 
extract that peculiar flavor which renders egg-plant 
obnoxious to many persons ? " 

"No," I said, giving Alice a silencing glance. 
" This was fried in the same manner in w^hich I 
usually fry egg-plant. Cut in slices a quarter of 
an inch in thickness, rubbed lightly with salt, and 
piled one slice upon another that some of the water 
might be drawn from the plant, it was allowed to 
stand for half an hour. The slices were then 



166 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

wiped dry, dusted very lightly with pepper, and 
freely with flour, and fried until thoroughly done, 
and nicely brown, in a small quantity of fat. For 
frying nearly everything of this sort, a thick cast- 
iron pan or spider is much better than one made 
of lighter metal. Equal proportions of lard and 
butter I And better for frying than either lard or 
butter alone. A small quantity should be first 
placed in the pan or spider, and, when hot, the 
slices of veo'etaJ^les should be laid in. AVhen 
nicely browned they should be turned, and more 
of the butter and lard added. Egg-plant will soak 
a great deal of fat, if permitted to do so. I there- 
fore put in at first only enough to fry one side ; 
and add sparingly, from time to time, as is neces- 
sary. It is well to have a cup "of this butter and 
lard mixture at hand, melted and hot, so that you 
can put it in the pan when required. To prevent 
the slices soaking fat, some cooks coat them with 
egg and bread-crumbs ; but I can't see that any- 
thing is gained by the operation, as the coating 
absorbs a good deal of grease, which is eaten with 
the egg-plant ; and when cooked in this way it is 
lial)le to be underdone, as it requires much more 
cooking with, than without the coating of crumbs. 
I also think it far more palatable without the 
crumbs ; but as tastes difler, there is no harm in 
trying both methods." 

" I am exceedhigly fond of egg-plant fried with- 



EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 1G7 

out egg and crumbs," observed Emeline, ''and 
think it one of the best of breakfast-dishes. With 
me it takes the place of meat. May I trouble you 
for another slice ? " 

" Give ma fried squash this time, Cousin Kate," 
said Alice, adding in a mock tone of pity, " Poor 
mannna ! to be victimized in this way, and made 
to praise fried squash so enthusiastically, all for 
the sake of Cousin Kate's horrid cook-book, is too 
bad ! It is positively cruel, I declare ! " 

" Fried squash ! " interrupted Emeline. " What 
do you mean ? " 

" AYhy simply this," I explained. "That sum- 
mer squash, or cymlin, when fried in the same 
manner as egg-plant, is a good substitute — " 

"And not always detected as a substitute," 
interrupted Alice, mischievously. " In fact, is 
sometimes mistaken for the genuine article by 
those very fond of egg-plant." 

"Which means, I suppose," said Emeline, "that 
this delicious dish I have been eating and praising, 
is fried squash, — something I never heard of 
before." 

" Exactly," I rejoined ; " and by many preferred 
to egg-plant, on account of being a less hearty 
food, and having a more delicate flavor. Toma- 
toes, not over-rij)e, cut in thick slices, and fried 
in the same manner, are very nice. The tomato 
should ho sliced, seasoned, dusted with flour, and 



168 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

fried immediately. The skin should be left on, to 
prevent the slices from coming to pieces." 

"Kate," said Emeline, "you certainly excel as 
a fryer, — or, fryist, or whatever the proper term 
may l3e. From fried chicken down to fried squash, 
all your fries are admirable ; and if your methods 
were generally adopted, such a revolution would 
take place in that sadly abused mode of preparing 
food, that the frying-pan would again come into as 
general use as in the days of our grandmothers. 
Oysters fried after your recipe I always forget to 
praise, in my eagerness to enjoy." 

"And yet, Emeline, I have in several instances 
given my exact method of frying oysters to friends, 
and w^ien the black, greasy things came upon the 
table, althousfh I could not recoo-nize them as the 
legitimate result of my method at all, the hostess 
invariably insisted that my directions had been 
followed to the minutest particular. This is a 
somewhat discouraging experience for one contem- 
plating writing a cook-book. Nevertheless, I 
suppose I shall go on telling people how to cook, 
and hopefully look to the future for better results. 

"For frying oysters, I like cracker-crumbs 
rolled very fine and sifted, so that you have almost 
cracker-flonr. The oysters should be taken singly, 
and well rinsed in tlieir own liquor, or in cold 
water, so that no particle of shell shall adhere to 
them, and laid upon a sieve or folded napkin, to 



EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 169 

drain. While the oysters are draining, season the 
cracker-crumbs with salt and cayenne pepper. 
Mix the seasoning very thorough!}^ with the 
cracker-dust ; dip each oyster in well-beaten egg, 
and roll it freely in the cracker. Lay it on a 
plate, or board, convenient to handle. Prepare 
in this way all the oysters before you begin to fry. 
A thick dripping-pan or deep griddle answers well 
for frying them in. When everything is ready, 
place in the pan an ounce or two of lard. The 
exact quantity required depends upon the size of 
the pan and the number of oysters. When the 
lard is boiling hot, add to it an equal quantity of 
butter. As soon as the butter is melted and 
mixed with the lard, fill the pan with oysters, 
laying them close together. Let the heat be 
enough to fry quickly, but not so great as to burn. 
When brown on one side, turn the oysters ; and 
when nicely brown on both sides, lift to a heated 
platter, and serve immediately. Fried oysters, 
chicken, potatoes, etc., are supposed to be nicer 
served on a napkin. 

"Ifc is well to let the lard get hot in the pan 
before the butter is added, as the butter is not so 
likely to scorch as when put in the pan at first. 
Place enough of the mixture in the pan before you 
begin frying, to fry the oysters on both sides ; 
but if a second panful is to be fried, the pan must 
be washed, and all the ])urnt grease removed, or 



170 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

the oysters will be badly damaged by it. When 
properly cooked, the oyster comes to the table of 
a light brown color, thinly coated all over Avith 
crumbs, — not warm, greasy, and leathery, but 
hot and juicy, and tasting precisely like — a fried 
oyster ! 

"For scalloped oysters, prepare the crumbs by 
drying bread very thoroughly in a cool oven. 
Broken pieces and crusts will answer as well as 
whole slices, if the bread is of good quality and 
the crusts not brown. Several hours will be re- 
quired to dry the bread sufficient!}^ ; and it will 
not be injured if lightly browned in the process. 
When dried, roll it very fine, rejecting whatever 
will not crush into fine crumbs. Season the 
crumbs w^ell with salt, pepper, and butter, rubbing 
all between the hands until thoroughly mixed. 
Rinse and drain the oysters the same as for frying. 
The dish in which scalloped oysters are cooked 
should be shallow, — holding not more than three 
or four layers of oysters and crumbs. Scatter a 
thin layer of crumbs over the bottom of the dish, 
and place a layer of oysters upon them. Over 
these scatter a thin layer of crumbs, and lay in 
more oysters. So fill the dish, covering each 
layer of oysters with a layer of crumbs. Over 
the top, place the crumbs thickly, so as to form a 
coating or crust, which will protect the oysters 
from exposure. It requires three-quarters of an 



EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 171 

hour to cook scalloped oysters three or four layers 
deep. The oven should be hotter than for bread 

— hot enough to cook as quickly as possible TV'ith- 
out burning the crumbs. The dish should be of a 
rich brown all over the top, before it is moved 
from the oven ; and when served, the oysters 
should be plump and juicy. The juice, however, 
should be found inside the oysters, — while on the 
outside they should be so dry as to roll and 
tumble about on the plate. They should not be 
wet, sticky, and packed together ; nor shrunken, 
leathery, and sloppy, from too much moisture, 
and from slow cooking or over-cooking. Oysters 

— whether stewed, fried, scalloped, or broiled, — 
should never be cooked long enough to collapse 
and become tough and juiceless." 

"Kate, in the matter of food, my sympathies 
are with country people," observed Emeline. 
"They usually cook their food in sucii a careless, 
slovenly manner, and have so little variety in it, 
that but for their active out-door lives they would 
certainly lose all appetite, and die of starvation. 
It is hard to imagine how people manage to sur- 
vive, who, day after day, for years, drink the 
sloppy tea and coffee, and eat the sour, heavy 
bread, and badly cooked meat and vegetables one 
is treated to at the average country house ! But 
the worst of it all is that they worry through life 
on such fare, and never realize the fact that it is 



172 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

possible to prepare food in any better way. Your 
cook-book will give them some useful hints on 
preparing frizzled beef, picked-up codfish, and 
many other staple dishes of plain, wholesome food. 
And I trust you will also' tell them how to make 
decent fish-balls. There is such a vast difterence 
between a perfect fish-ball and a fish-ball as ordi- 
narly made and cooked, that I think the subject 
deserves special mention." 

"Yes," I replied, "the difiTerence between an 
ordinary and a perfect fish-ball, is as marked and 
appreciable as between any other properly and 
improperly prepared article of food. To make 
perfect fish-balls requires care and attention. 
Salt fish should be soaked for several hours in 
cold water, then boiled slowly until very tender. 
The potatoes should be well boiled, dry, and 
mealy. Take measure for measure of fish picked 
clean from skin and bones, and potatoes. Add a 
fresh egg, a small piece of butter, Cayenne pepper, 
and a little sweet milk. Work these ingredients 
so perfectly together that the fish and potato are as 
indivisible as are two drops of water run together. 
In this thorough mixing consists the chief art of 
makins^ fish-balls. Eoll this mixture into round 
balls between the hands, dust with flour, and fry 
in boiling lard. If the balls crack and come to 
pieces in the lard, it is because the lard is not hot 
enough or the balls are too soft. These round 



EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 173 

balls, fried in a quantity of boiling lard, will be 
found far superior, for most tastes, to flat cakes 
made of the same fish and fried in a small amount 
of grease. When nicely brown, the ball should 
be lifted from the lard in a wire skimmer, dried 
on a napkin, and served hot. When boiled 
fish, with drawn butter, has been served for din- 
ner, what is left can be made into balls, and the 
gravy used instead of butter and milk. Delicious 
balls can also be made of fresh fish, either .baked 
or boiled, and a proportion of light bread soaked 
in sweet milk may be used in place of potato." 

"Can't you also suggest," asked Emeline, " some 
improvement in hashes and warmed-up meats and 
potatoes ? They are so often found upon break- 
fast-tables, in both city and country, that every 
one should be acquainted with the best manner of 
preparing them." 

"All cold fresh meats, when properly hashed 
and served, make nice, palatable breakfast-dishes. 
In preparing them, great care should be taken to 
throw out all gristle, tough skin, and dry, chippy 
portions. The meat should then be hashed fine, 
and mixed either Avith hashed potato or bread 
crumbed and soaked in sweet milk. Ordinary 
hash, made of equal proportions of corned beef 
and potato, can be much improved and made 
really delicious, by adding bread-crumbs soaked 
in milk, or sweet milk or cream without the 



174 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

crumbs, find working it well with the hand, then 
forming it mto rolls, and browning in the oven. 
Or, it ma}' be placed in a well-buttered bread-pan 
of medium size, and put in a hot oven until it is 
brown on the bottom and sides, and perfectly 
heated. When ready to serve, turn it from the 
pan on a heated platter. Yery nice hashed meat- 
balls or cakes are made by mixing with hashed 
meat, bread crumbed and soaked in sweet milk, 
and a fresh ecfo:. Season to taste with salt and 
pepper, and sweet herbs, if liked. If the meat is 
mostly lean, sweet cream or a little butter must be 
added. Make into round cakes, and fry quickly 
in a small quantity of hot fat. When brown on 
both sides, serve hot. For frying all these meat- 
and-potato cakes, the fat fried out of salt pork 
is much nicer than fresh lard. 

"'Scrapple,' made in the following manner, is 
both palatable and nutritious. Instead of pork, 
which is generally used for making scrapple, take 
a piece of beef, or a beef-bone with meat on it, 
and boil slowly till very tender. Strain the 
liquor into an earthen bowl, and set aside. Sepa- 
rate the bone from the meat, and when cold, hash 
the meat fine and put it in a kettle with the liquor 
and half of the fat that has risen on it. Season 
with salt and pepper ; and when it boils, thicken 
with corn meal. Stir in the meal as in making mush 
or hasty pudding. When thick enough, or .as 



EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 175 

thick as mush, pour into a pan to cool ; and when 
cold, cut in slices and fry in a skillet, or on a hot 
griddle. In cool weather scrapple will keep sev- 
eral days, and is a convenient breakfast-dish. 

"Plashed potato warmed, I think much nicer 
than that which is coarsely sliced. This is my 
method of preparing it : Place a small piece of 
butter in the kettle or pan to be used for warm- 
ing, and when melted, add milk, or thin cream 
(which is better) , with salt and pepper to taste ; 
and lastly, add the hashed potato. Cover closely 
and set where it will heat slowly. The milk 
should boil up through and over the potato, and 
have time to soak into it pretty thoroughly. It 
should be stirred very little, and when served no 
milk should be visible. Hashed potato warmed 
in this manner is very nice w4th beefsteak, ham, 
or cold meat. 

" Chicken croquettes are very nice for breakfast, 
lunch, or supper. Do you know how they are 
made, Kate?" asked Emeline. 

"There are more elaborate methods, but this is 
very nice : Take a chicken, boiled as for salad, or 
cold roast chicken will answer. Chop fine and 
place in a stew-pan, with a gill of chicken broth. 
Season to taste with salt and pepper. Stir to a 
smooth paste an ounce of butter and tablespoon- 
ful of flour, which add to the chicken when boil- 
ing. Lastly, add the well-beaten yolks of two 



176 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

eggs, stirring rapidly. Eemove at once from the 
fire. When cold, add minced parsley; mix well. 
Scatter fine bread-crumbs on the bread-board, and 
taking a spoonful of chicken roll into any shaj^e 
desired, rolling in some of the crumbs. When 
shaped, dip in beaten egg, roll in bread-crumbs, 
lay in a wire basket, and fry in hot lard the same 
as chicken, potatoes, etc. The wire basket is 
also nice for frying potatoes. 

" A simple stew that is relished occasionally as 
a breakfast dish, by most persons, is made in this 
manner : Put a piece of butter and two or three 
sliced onions in the stew-pan. Cover, and cook 
slowly until brown. Add cold meat, roast or 
boiled, cut in small pieces, and gravy, if you have 
any; also a quart of ripe tomatoes, fresh or 
canned, with pepper and salt to taste. Cover 
closely and simmer gently for two hours ; when, if 
too thin, thicken with a mixture of flour and but- 
ter, or flour and sweet cream. Cover the top of the 
stew with pieces of stale bread, half an inch thick, 
and two inches square. Simmer a few minutes, 
and serve on a heated platter, placing the pieces 
of bread at the bottom, and dishing the stew over 
it." 

"But, as you and I, Kate," said Emeline, rising, 
" are to go for the mail to-day, isn't it about time 
to stop our gossip ? " 

In the afternoon Emeline and I took a long 



EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 177 

walk to the village post-office, and, on our way- 
home, sat down to rest under the grand old oak 
that stands, like a faithful sentinel, at the entrance 
to MapleAvood. Absorbed with my own medita- 
tions, I gazed in silence at the beautiful landscape, 
until my attention was arrested by an impatient 
exclamation from Emeline,' who, in looking over 
the village paper, which was among our mail- 
matter, had been irritated by the following 
paragraph ; — 

" Personal. — The readers of the ' Democrat ' 
will be glad to learn that our reporter, after 
thoroughly investigating the affair, has come to 
the conclusion that there are no 'spooks* in or 
about the Douglas mansion ; and that the story of 
ghosts and goblins having been seen and heard 
there, originated with a nervous old lady, who one 
evening happened to see some fairy-like garments 
ornamenting a clothes-line in the garden, and per- 
mitted her imagination to get the better of her 
judgment. The facts in the case, as far as our 
reporter has been able to gather them, are simply 
these : Three lady friends of the Douglas family, 
who are said to belong to the class known as 
'strong-minded women,' have been spending the 
summer at Maple wood, and doing the principal 
part of their own housework for the sake of privacy 
and seclusion. Rumor has it that they have been 



178 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

making experiments in cookery, etc., and intend 
getting up a book, in which instructions will be 
given for preparing food in a practical manner. 
We hope this latter report may prove true ; for 
the cook-book has yet to be written in which con- 
cise directions are given for plain cooking ; and 
improvements in the cooking of the average Amer- 
ican housewife are certainly greatly to be desired. 
It is said the Douc^lases intend comino' home 
shortly ; and it is also whispered among gossips 
that one of the present occupants of their mansion 
is a beautiful young lady, who, travelling with her 
mother in Switzerland last summer, fell in with the 
Douglas party ; that a sudden attachment sprung 
up between the young people ; and that, ere many 
months, a new mistress will occupy the old manse." 

" Kate," she said, after I had finished reading the 
obnoxious article, " I'd much rather Alice wouldn't 
see that. I think it would annoy and vex her ex- 
ceedingly. And if it did not do that, it might 
start her on a new^ train of thought more objection- 
able than the one she is now pursuing. Do you 
know the child's behavior astonishes me. Edu- 
cated in a convent, and always accustomed to the 
strict formalities of the church, one would natu- 
rally suppose she would have been shocked at the 
doubts and sentiments expressed by Gerald in his 
ravings about his dead wife. But the other day, 



EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 179 

when I said something of the sort to her, she 
simply answered, ^Why so, mamma? I've had 
very similar thoughts myself. Quite as wicked, I 
dare say ; but I never could have given them such 
beautiful expression.' I confess to you, Kate, I'm 
becoming seriously annoyed. I don't like this 
hero-worship she is evidently indulging in. Why, 
the child is only twenty ; and I should prefer to 
have her keep clear of love's entangling alliances 
until she is twenty-five, at least." 

" True," I replied, " but you know ' Satan finds 
some mischief still for idle hands to do.' And 
that which is true of hands is equally true of brains 
and hearts. If you don't wish Alice to think about 
Gerald, and fall in love before her time, give her 
something else to think about, and something to 
do. Now, if you were to become heartily enlisted 
in this school project of mine, who knows but she 
might join in the work also, and become so enthu- 
siastically interested in it, that love would be put 
away from her thoughts forever." 

"No, — not forever, I hope," said Emeline ; 
" that would be too long. But what is this school 
project you speak of? Do you seriously contem- 
plate taking charge of a school for girls ? " 

"Seriously, I do," was my reply. "Hereto- 
fore, as you know, I have done a good deal of 
talking ; hereafter, I propose doing some honest 
work. It seems to me of vital importance that 



180 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

girls should be thoroughly instructed in the domes- 
tic arts. Of these, I consider the culinary 
department the most important. But a practical 
knowledge of all of them is essential to the comfort 
and well-being of a household. Glance over the 
homes to which you have free entrance. Look at 
the slack, slovenly way in wdiich most of them 
are ordered. Housework is considered drudgery 
of the meanest sort, and is pushed aside whenever 
possible ; or, if not, is done in a fretful, com- 
plaining spirit. Servants, as a class, are poorly 
educated in their department ; but the average 
servant who professes to do general housework, 
is fully up to the capacity of the average mistress. 
Where a servant haloitually makes poor bread, 
serves badly cooked food, or does her work gen- 
erally in a sleazy, slipshod manner, you will find 
the mistress powerless to correct the evils, be- 
cause of her ignorance of the proper methods. 
Here, emphatically, ^knowledge is power' ; and 
Bridget misrules the household, because her igno- 
rance is less dense than the ignorance of the 
mistress. Now, in this school of mine the girls 
are to be taught home duties and domestic work ; 
and, at the same time, to be inspired with a love 
of them." 

"How?" asked Emeline, all attention. 

" Insensibly, in a thousand ways," I continued. 
" In the first place, the school is to be a home ; 



EDIBLES AND EDUCATION". 181 

and is to be as charming and attractive as it 
can be made. Everything about it will be con- 
venient, comfortable, cosy. The housekeeping 
department will be administered with great care ; 
and the girls will see, every day and all the time, 
housework properly performed. The table will 
be abundantly supplied with the best food, pre- 
pared in the most careful manaer, after the most 
approved methods. In short, my ideas are, that 
study, under proper conditions, is conducive to 
thorouofh health ; that the hio^hest mental culture 
is productive of the most perfect physical develop- 
ment ; and that young women, Avhile being qual- 
ified for the duties of life, can be developed 
mentally and physically, and inspired with a 
genuine, abiding love of domestic as well as intel- 
lectual pursuits. Emcline, you may consider me 
an enthusiast : but I expect to live long enough 
to see these theories of mine, if you choose to call 
them such, demonstrated as facts at this Home- 
School, or home and school combined." 

"But, Kate, after you get through with cook- 
ing, I don't see what will remain for your girls to 
learn in the housekeeping department. Every 
woman of sense knows how to do general house- 
work, — to wash and iron, make beds, sweep, etc." 

"No, Emeline ; I think very few women know 
the best ways of doing any of these things. I 
expect to deliver a lecture, at least once a week, 



182 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

to the girls in the domestic department, on such 
subjects as — how to make fires, with the special 
treatment of coal fires ; how to manage draughts 
and dampers ; how to keep a coal fire at a low ebb, 
yet ready to be forced to a quick heat in a few 
minutes ; how to sweep with a common broom 
without raisins: a dust ; how to make and use 
bakins: and ironino' holders ; how to make beds ; 
and so on, indefinitely. And in this connection let 
me give you a little story, just in point. One 
day, when travelling in the West, I fell into con- 
versation with a gentleman who occupied the seat 
next to mine in the cars. Our talk was rambling 
and desultory. He, I learned, was President of 
an Eastern college, who had been spending his 
vacation in Minnesota. He had a lot of guns and 
fishing-tackle with him, and had evidently been 
having a good time. 'What a perfect place,' he 
said, ' Minnesota is for a summer vacation. The 
climate is delightful during July and August. 
How pure and bracing the atmosphere is on the 
hottest days. And the nights are so delightfully 
cool, that no one thinks of sleeping without 
blankets, — double blankets at that.' And here 
an expression of pain clouded his genial face. 
After a moment's hesitation, however, he con- 
tinued : ' I wish something could be done — but I 
suppose nothing can — to cure chambermaids of 
a stupid habit they have, which has caused me 



EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 183 

more serious annoyance during my life, I think, 
than any other one thing. I've been tempted sev- 
eral times to write a newspaper article upon the 
subject, and call attention to it as a public and 
general nuisance, but I have never done so. You 
may look upon it as a tritie ; but I assure you I 
found it a very serious matter the other night at 
a hotel in St. Paul. I had been out tramping all 
day, and came in very tired. The evening was 
cool ; and when I crawled under the blankets at 
bedtime, I had no presentiment of coming evil. 
But after a sound sleep, I awoke, sweltering in 
torments, loaded with blankets. Upon a careful 
examination I discovered I had been sleeping 
under two heavy blankets in August. I attempted 
to turn one away, but found they would not be 
separated. Both would go, or both would stay. 
It was dark, and I had no matches ; so I tugged, 
and labored, and toiled ; but my efforts to sepa- 
rate the blankets were ineffectual. Eventually I 
discovered the cause of failure : the stupid cham- 
bermaid had put the open ends of the double 
blankets at the foot, instead of at the head, of the 
bed. I tried in vain to turn and riirht them. 
They were in coils and twists innumerable, and 
would not be righted. Finally, I slept, from 
sheer exhaustion ; and this horrible cold that 
annoys me so much, is the result. But that 
night I swore a solemn oath, never, so long as I 



184 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

live, to go to bed again without having first ex- 
amined the bed, to see if the blankets are put on 
right.' The lives of most of us are made up of 
trifles, that vitality afiect our happiness ; and the 
wretched experience of my travelling acquaint- 
ance, the Professor, while showing the results of 
a seemingly trivial matter, forcibly illustrates the 
importance of knowing how to properly do so 
small a thing as put blankets on a bed ! " 

"Indeed, Kate," said Emeline, "I think beds 
generally, outside of first-class hotels, are an 
abomination. People spend about one-third of 
their lives in bed ; and what should be a couch of 
rest, where sleep comes unbidden, is more often a 
sack of torture, — a humpy, bumpy, sliding, roll- 
ing, tormenting thing, so badly made up that you 
roll and toss, the night through, seeking vainly 
either rest or sleep. And the sickening odors of 
'spare rooms,' or 'guest-chambers,' as they are 
termed, where weary visitors are put to spend the 
night on such beds ! Bah ! they linger in one's 
memory for years. You will do a good thing in 
your school, if 3^ou impress upon your pupils the 
necessity of comfortable, well-made beds, and 
thoroughly aired spare-rooms and parlors." 

"Emeline, our pupils will be taught to live in 
their homes — to occupy their parlors and spare- 
rooms every day ; and to keep them swept and 
garnished for themselves, and not for occasional 



EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 185 

guests. Self-respect is one of the first things that 
should be developed in a boy or girl. And by 
self-respect I mean the high and honorable feeling 
that prevents men and women from being mean 
and narrow to themselves in their daily home life. 
People w^ho have genuine respect and considera- 
tion for themselves, never fail to treat other 
people with respect and consideration. To learn 
to be just and respectful to our fellow men and 
women, we must tirst learn to be just and respect- 
ful to ourselves. I have but little iiiith in re- 
formers who go about endeavoring to reform 
society, while they neglect, or are, ignorant of, 
the duties they owe to themselves and their fami- 
lies. Think you, women who consider household 
work menial and degrading, and whose houses are 
nurseries of disorder and ill-training, are likely to 
elevate and advance humanity by their etlbrts? 
The true reformer must begin at home, and work 
outward. And until the average home is reformed 
and made Avhat it should be, the reformatory move- 
ments of our age will mostly end in failure. Here 
among my letters is one from Mrs. Wheaton, a 
woman of wealth and culture, who feels that sJie 
was created for something better than to be *aj 
household drudge.' She asks, 'Can 3^ou suggest 
an.y way whereby the wife and mother can make 
home happy and attractive to husband and sons, 
without giving her life to the work ? — devoting 



186 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

all her powers of mind and body to it ? In short, 
without bringing her mind down to the level of 
that of a common cook and drudge ? ' Now, the 
idea that certain kinds of labor are deOTadini^r, 
while other kinds are refining and elevating, is, I 
think, a stumbling-block to many. People of 
education and intelligence seem to lose sight of 
the fact that it is the heart we put into labor of 
any kind — the motive that underlies it — that 
makes its performance either elevating or degrading 
in its effects. It seems strange to me that people 
w^ho profess to believe in the dignity of labor, 
should make such absurd distinctions. And I am 
unable to see how the ordinary labor of the farmer, 
merchant, doctor, or lawyer, can be any more 
pleasant, interesting, or refining to them, than 
ordinary housework is to the wife and mother. 
Is there not as wide a field for the use of brains in 
her department as in each, or any, of their depart- 
ments? And is it a small matter — a low ambi- 
tion — to devote one's time and energies to making 
a pleasant and attractive home ? Do not thou- 
sands of men toil uncomplainingly, day after day, 
all their lives, to give their wives and daughters 
the means to render home comfortable and attract- 
ive ? For my part, I can conceive of no nobler 
aim in life for any woman than that of making a 
perfect home. Is there any higher or holier ob- 
ject to which she can * devote all her powers of 



EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 187 

mind and body'? I know of none. Hence, my 
desire to aid in establishing this home-school, 
where girls can be taught to perform thoroughly 
all life's homely household duties." 

" Kate, good men and women everywhere should 
lend a helping hand to your enterprise," said Eme- 
line, earnestly, after listening attentively to my 
sermonizing. "The subject assumes a new aspect 
to mo ; and I begin to realize that the wives and 
mothers who allow their daughters to grow up with- 
out being educated in all the branches of house- 
keeping, or who spend their lives in boarding- 
houses for the purpose of escaping domestic du- 
ties, are among the worst foes of society." 

"Emeline, your language is forcible, but just," 
was my reply. "Boarding-houses may be neces- 
sary ; but they are necessary evils. They destroy 
all domestic privacy, and are demoralizing society 
by eating out the heart of our home life. Girls 
whose traininsr in household duties has been nes:- 
lected, flee, after marriage, to these places of 
refuge, to escape the penalty of their bad or neg- 
lected training, and the oppression of ignorant, 
insolent servants ; and thus boarding-houses per- 
petuate the system of which they are the legiti- 
mate result, — that wretched system under Avhich 
women are reared without a knowledge of house- 
work, and are taught to shirk the cares and respon- 



188 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

sibilities— thereby losing all the joys and comforts 
— of a home ! " 

"But this school you speak of," interrupted 
Emeline, "is not to be solely a training-school for 
gh-ls in these domestic matters, — is it, Kate?" 

"By no means," I answered. "The aim of its 
projectors is to make it a model school for girls, 
where they may enter at an early age, and con- 
tinue as long as they please. I have no expecta- 
tion that any of our girls will linish their educa- 
tion at school. They will be taught that education 
is a life-work; that self-development and self- 
restraint are the primary objects of education ; 
and that, until they have perfectly developed all 
their faculties, and are capable of restraining their 
appetites and passions, their education vrill 1)c 
incomplete. Instruction will be given in all the 
branches usually taught in a lirst-class school for 
young women, and in many more, as well as in 
domestic or household economy. In short, Eme- 
line, the object is to establish a home-school 
worthy of the name, worthy of the nineteenth 
century, and worthy of the women of America." 

" Kate, notwithstanding the slur of the ' Demo- 
crat,' you know I've never had any affiliation with 
' strong-minded women.' On the contrary, I have 
been decidedly opposed to most of their move- 
ments ; but I like this school project of yours. 
It seems to me a great deal better for women to 



EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 189 

go to work to correct our social evils in some such 
practical way, than to go aboirt clamoring for the 
ballot, and scolding men generally for depriving 
them of their rights. Have you ever talked Avith 
Alice about it? Perhaps it would strike her 
favorably. And if it should — " 

" Why not go into it heart and soul yourself. 
Cousin Emeline?" I interrupted, eagerly. "Why 
not put your life and fortune into it ? Believe me, 
it would pay a great deal better than writing 
novels." 

" Pay ? " answered Emeline, interrogatively. " I 
never thought of making money out of my novels." 

" No, no, Emeline ; you misunderstand me. I 
think it will pay better than writing novels, in 
other ways than in money. It will pay in some- 
thins^ more endurins; than dollars and cents. I 
think it will pay in — " 

" But," interrupted Emeline, "the sun is setting 
— how beautiful ! — and Alice will be wondering^ 
what has become of us. Let us go home." 



190 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 



CHAPTER XI. 

LITTLE THINGS. 

"Cousin Kate, are you going to ignore cake 
entirely in your cook-book?" asked Alice, one 
evening at tea, as she passed me the loaf-cake she 
had made a week before. "Even you sometimes 
indulge in eating cake." 

"Very true, Alice," I replied; "I enjoy this 
bread-cake, for instance ; and quite delight in 
o'ood srino-er-cake at times. But I am so dis- 
gusted with the prominence given in cook-books 
to cake over bread, and I everywhere see so much 
time and attention bestowed upon cake, and so 
little upon bread, that I am strongly tempted, in 
my cook-book, to treat cake of all kinds with 
silent contempt." 

"But," said Emeline, "since people will eat 
cake, why not tell them how to make a few varie- 
ties that are inexpensive and comparatively harm- 
less? This loaf or bread cake is, to my taste, 
better than the average fruit-cake, for it has a 
cleaner taste. Yet it doesn't cost quarter as 
much as the fruit-cake, and is easier made, isn't 
it, Alice?" 



LITTLE THINGS. 191 

"Yes, mamma, this cake gave me no more 
trouble to make than would a loaf of bread. 
From the bread, when perfectly light and ready 
for the last moulding, I took three cups of dough, 
to which I added two cups of white sugar, one 
cup of butter, two eggs well beaten, one cup 
chopped raisins, one teaspoonful cinnamon, and 
half a teaspoonful of soda. As the dough was 
very light I pressed it into tlie cup, measuring it 
as full as possible. Placing these ingredients 
together in an earthen bowl, I worked them with my 
hand for half an hour. The mixture became quite 
soft, after being worked awhile. I put it into a 
well-buttered baking-dish, lined with white paper, 
and, placing it upon the table covered, let it stand 
two hours to rise. When light — which w^as 
shown by little bubbles of air dotting its surface, 
more than from its having risen — I placed it in a 
very moderate oven, not nearly so hot as bread 
requires, and every few minutes I opened the 
oven door just enough to peep in and see how it 
was baking. To my joyful surprise, — for it being 
my lirst attempt at bread-cake, I scarcely looked 
for success, — each time I peeped, I found it ris- 
ing, rising, rising, slowly, and at last I shut the 
door, satisfied that I could leave it to bake un- 
watched. It was in tlie oven an hour and a half, 
and you see it came out very nice." 

"And how well it keeps," observed Emeline. 



192 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

" Indeed, I think age improves it, as it does many 
things." 

"And people also," I answered. "Did it ever 
occur to you, Emeline, how many men and women 
ripen and mellow — growing sweeter and more 
tender, as the autumn of life come on? This 
bread-cake," I continued, "when baked in suit- 
able form, makes a very nice pudding, if steamed, 
and served hot, with wine or fruit sauce. To my 
taste it is more palatable than the ordinary plum- 
pudding, while it is much less indigestible. 
Bread-cake, doughnuts, and buns—" 

"No buns for me," said Emeline. "I detest 
the whole rusk family. INIany people like that 
half-and-half sort of food — a something between 
one thing and another — a link joining this thing 
to that ; but my taste is different. If I eat bread, 
I want it to be bread ; if cake, cake ; not a com- 
bination of both, resulting in neither." 

" But mamma," said Alice, " l)uns are bread ethe- 
realized ; light, airy things that I delight in eat- 
ing, because of their very daintiness. M}^ recipe 
for buns reads in this manner : Whip together 
three ounces of sugar and three eggs, until well 
broken and mixed ; then pour upon them slowly, 
continuing the beating meanwhile, a pint of boil- 
ing milk. Add a pint of flour, and when luke- 
warm, a half-gill of yeast; Beat all well together, 
cover closely, and let stand over night. In the 



LITTLE THINGS. 193 

morning add a handful of flour, and beat them 
soundly. When again light, work well with 
the hand, adding three ounces of butter and flour 
very gradually. The excellence of these buns 
consists mamly in their being soft and elastic or 
spongy. When the dough is stifl* enough to cling 
together and work away from the sides of the 
bowl, sufiicient flour has been added. Work ten 
or fifteen minutes longer, cover closely, and leave 
to rise. When very light, mould into small round 
cakes, and place in a pan, not allowing the cakes 
to touch each other. Let them rise in the pan 
till light ; then bake in a moderate oven. Is that 
right. Cousin Kate ? " 

"You have omitted flavoring and citron," I 
said. 

" So I have," answered Alice ; "I forgot to men- 
tion that at the time of adding the butter, lemon 
or other flavoring may be used according to taste ; 
and that a slice of citron, placed in each bun at 
the time of forming, gives them a nice flavor, and 
causes a delightful surprise to the uninitiated 
eater. By the way, how will this do for dough- 
nuts ? Put into a pan three pints of sifted flour. 
Make a well in the centre, into which put a half 
pound of sugar, a gill of buttermilk or thick sour 
milk, two eggs, two ounces of butter, a teaspoon- 
ful of soda, and flavoring to taste. With the 
hand mix these ingredients well together, work- 



194 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

ing in the flour gradually, until the dough is very- 
smooth. It must not, however, be made stiff. 
Eoll upon the moulding-board half an inch thick, 
cut in form, and fry in boiling lard. When cool, 
dust the doughnuts with pulverized sugar. Dough- 
nuts made according to this recipe are the nicest 
I ever ate." 

" The next time you make buns, Alice, when 
the dough is ready to shape, roll it on the mould- 
ing-board, cut into doughnuts and fry in boiling 
lard; and you will, I think, decidedly give 
them the preference over those made according to 
your recipe." 

" When the flavoring is omitted, and the dough- 
nuts are dusted with pulverized sugar and cinna- 
mon, they suit my taste much better," said 
Emeline. "And Kate," she added, "a good 
doughnut isn't a bad thing with a cup of coffee 
for breakfast." 

"A doughnut and a cup of coffee," I answered, 
"may be well enough for breakfast, sometimes. 
But, in my opinion, a nice roll, or a slice of good 
bread, with sweet, rich butter, far outranks dough- 
nuts or cake as an accompaniment of coffee." 

"Cousin Kate," said Alice, "my one accom- 
plishment in the culinary art, before I came under 
your instruction, was the making of delicate cake. 
I think I was mistress of that. AYon't you put 
my recipe in your book ? I use the largest sized 



LITTLE THINGS. 195 

stone-china coffee-cup for measure ; and to one 
cup of butter, add three cups of granulated sugar, 
work to a cream with the hand. Then use a 
wooden spoon and stir in, a little of each at a 
time, alternating, one and one-third cups of sweet 
milk, and four cups of flour in which three tea- 
spoonfuls baking powder have been mixed. Beat 
well, the more the better. Lastly, add the 
whites of ten eggs, creamed; that is, beaten to 
the consistency of cream and not stiffly. Stir in 
the eggs very carefully, and bake at once." 

"In return, Alice, for your nice recipe, which 
you have so carefully learned, I will add one for 
sponge cake ; for the two ought to go together as 
being harmonious in delicacy and contrasting 
prettily in color. 

" Weigh ten eggs and take their weight of sugar 
and half their weight of flour. Reject the yolks 
of two, and beat whites and yolks separately 
until perfectly light ; then mix and beat together, 
and by degrees add the sugar and the juice and 
grated rind of a lemon. Lastly add flour, stirring 
in carefully. Bake in square pans." 

"Alice," said her mother, "while listening to 
your recipe for delicate cake, I wanted to ask how 
you measure a third of a cup of milk ?" 

"I doubt not, mamma, there are better ways of 
arriving at the solution, but this was mine. I dis- 
covered a large iron spoon, and found by measur- 



196 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

ing, that the cup held just twelve spoonfuls; 
therefore four gave me the desired one-third." 

" Kate, what sort of pickles do you like best, 
with fried or scalloped oysters?" asked Emeline, 
turning suddenly from contemplation of sweet 
things to things sour. 

" Cold-slaw," I replied ; " cabbage crisp and 
sweet, with a simple salad dressmg. I like it a 
thousand times better than any pickle that ever 
was made. Next to eating such quantities of 
cake and pastry, I think Americans are most 
absurd in their free use of pickles and condiments. 
When people can have sliced tomatoes, fresh and 
delicious, or cool, crisp cabbage, or sour baked 
apples full of tart spiciness, it is a marvel to me 
that they should crave mustard, catsup, and 
pickles. Pickles may be useful, and entitled to a 
place on our tables in the late winter, or early 
spring, when fresh vegetables and acid fruits are 
hard to obtain, and I shall give a few recipes for 
making them; for it is a pity that housewives 
should buy, at an exorbitant price, what, with a 
little trouble, they can make much better for them- 
selves. First among pickles, I shall give chopped 
cabbage. Select cabbage crisp and sweet ; chop 
it moderately fine ; season to taste with white 
mustard-seed, salt, and pepper. Put it in a jar 
and cover with cold vinegar. Scatter whole 
cloves over the top, to prevent mould. Do you 



LITTLE THINGS. 197 

know, Emeline, it is said that cloves scattered 
over any pickle, sweet or sour, will effectually 
prevent mould? and, so far as I have tested, I 
have found it to be true. If preferred, sweet 
peppers may be chopped with the cabbage, instead 
of using ground pepper." 

"It occurs to me, Cousin Kate," said Alice, 
"this seems a very loose sort of a recipe for you 
to give who are so particular about weights and 
measures. You say, ^season to taste.' I think 
you should designate the amount of salt and 
pepper." 

" Not at all," I replied. " Spicing and flavoring 
are matters of taste. Some like much, others 
less ; and I think every housewife should use her 
own discretion, and decide for herself about such 
matters. Besides, Alice, what I desire above all 
things is to induce women to think and experi- 
ment for themselves in the matter of cooking — to 
seek out many new ways and inventions, so as to 
secure improvements upon the old methods. Just 
as soon as women become convinced that this 
question of how best to prepare the food we eat, 
is a momentous one, and that she who excels in 
answering it deserves high rank among women, — 
and not only among women, but among public 
benefactors, — good cooks will abound." 

" But when will they become convinced ? " asked 
Emeline, with a sigh. 



198 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

" Not so long, at least," I answered, " as mothers 
allow their tables to be furnished with hotly spiced 
chow-chow and other such abominations, when it 
is so easy, by taking a little trouble, to substitute 
this mild tomato sauce : Take twelve ripe toma- 
toes ; f)eel and slice them. Chop fine, four sweet 
peppers, ripe or green, and two onions. Place all 
together in a preserving-kettle, adding two table- 
spoonfuls of salt, two of sugar, and a pint of 
vinegar. Simmer two hours, or until quite thick ; 
then bottle for use. Or this green tomato sauce : 
Take a peck of green tomatoes and ten onions ; 
slice and sprinkle lightly with salt. Let stand 
over night. In the morning drain the brine or 
water away from it, and put in a preserving-kettle, 
with three half gallons of vinegar, three sweet 
peppers, chopped fine, a quarter of a pound of 
white mustard-seed, and an ounce of cloves. Boil 
slowly three or four hours, stirring frequently. 
Half an hour before removing from the fire add 
one pound of sugar. Or this cucumber catsup, 
which is simple and easily made, yet full of pun- 
gency : Grate six green cucumbers and three 
onions. Add to the grated mixture a teaspoonful 
of salt, and half a teaspoonful of pepper. Drain 
oflf the juice, and, after measuring, throw it away, 
adding to the catsup the same quantity of vinegar. 
Mix well and bottle for use." 

"But," said Emeline, " many people prefer cu- 



LITTLE THINGS. 199 

cumber pickles, pure and simple, to all mixtures, 
and fancy preparations. Do you know the best 
method of making them ? " 

"Perhaps not. But this is a very excellent 
method : Put the freshly gathered cucumbers in 
a jar, sprinkle lightly with salt, and when the jar 
is full of cucumbers pour on as much boiling 
water as it will hold. After the water becomes 
cold, remove the cucumbers to a preserving-kettle, 
cover with weak vinegar, and heat to boiling point. 
Remove, drain, and i3ut in a jar, distributing 
among them pieces of sweet pepper. Cover with 
strong vinegar, in whJch a few cloves and a small 
quantity of sugar have been heated. If you wish 
to improve the color of the pickles, line the kettle, 
before placing them in it, with green cabbage or 
grape leaves, and put a small piece of alum in the 
vineo^ar." 

" But how many cloves and how much sugar do 
you put in them?" asked Alice. 

" An ounce of cloves and a pound of sugar to a 
gallon of vinegar, is what / should use," I re- 
plied ; "but that is a matter of taste, and, as I said 
before, I prefer, in such cases not to give weights 
or measures. I will also add, Alice, that when I 
speak of vinegar I always mean good, strong 
cider vinegar, and not the weak, watery, insipid 
stuff that is often used by housewives, with the 
almost certain loss of the pickles on which it is 



200 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

used. Yet I notice that people whose pickles 
spoil from want of good vinegar, generally attri- 
bute their having spoiled to some other cause." 

"Cousin Kate, I hope you will give some nice 
methods of sweet pickling, or spicing fruits. 
Among pickles, sweet or spiced ones are my 
favorites, although mamma, no doubt, would ob- 
ject to them as occupying neutral ground between 
pickles and preserves, as being too undecided, not 
Ijositive enough, in character to suit her." 

"Spiced peaches and damsons are both very 
nice," I answered. " The former I prepare in this 
manner : Selecting hard free-stone peaches, I 
cut in halves, and remove the stones before par- 
ing, as I find them much easier to remove before 
than after paring. For seven pounds of fruit I 
use three pounds of sugar, a quart of vinegar, and 
a half ounce each of cloves and cinnamon. I put 
the sugar, with three pints of water, into a preserv- 
ing-kettle, and when it boils, cook as many of the 
peaches at a time as the kettle will hold without 
their being piled one upon another. I cook 
slowly, turning them over and shaking them about, 
that they may cook evenly ; and when tender, re- 
move by means of a wire skimmer, and place in a 
jar. When all the fruit is cooked, I simmer the 
syrup until quite thick, then add vinegar and 
spice, simmer all together a few minutes, and pour 
over the peaches. 



LITTLE THINGS. 201 

"Damsons I treat diflfercntly. ^electing large, 
fair plums, I puncture the skins with a fork, and 
lay them in a stone jar. Then I heat to boiling, 
four pounds of sugar and a quart of vinegar, with 
s-pice, the same as for peaches. When boiling hot 
I pour the liquor upon the plums, cover closely, 
and set aside until next morning; then I drain 
from the plums all the juice, heat to boiling, and 
pour over them as at first. I repeat this every 
morning for a week, or until the damsons are soft 
and tender. I then put all in the kettle together, 
simmer gently for a few minutes, skim out the 
fruit and put it in a jar, simmer the s}Tup twenty 
or thirty minutes, or until it seems rich and suffi- 
ciently thick, then pour it over the fruit, and 
consider the process of spicing damsons completed. 
But here comes Tom with our letters and papers." 

Our trunks were packed and our arrangements 
all completed for leaving Maple wood ; and as we 
sat on the piazza in the September twilight after 
tea, listening to the chirpings of the katydids, 
Alice observed, — 

" Cousin Kate, I would like to linger on here in- 
definitely. I have never passed a pleasanter sum- 
mer ; and I w4sh we could stay through October 
and November, at least, to watch the autumn 
foliage as it brightens and fades." 

" If I had known before making other arrange- 



202 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

ments," replied Emeline, " that Mrs. Douglas had 
concluded to remam abroad, I could have been 
satisfied to stay several months longer; for the 
summer here has been to me very restful. True, 
I have not made much progress with my novel ; 
but I think my time has been spent to good ad- 
vantaofe. I have looked at life from a difierent 
stand-point than ever before, and begin to feel a 
deep interest in everything that concerns our com- 
mon humanity. I know I do not realize, as Kate 
does, its needs and wants ; but I accept the fact 
that no true woman ought to remain idle, or take 
to novel- writing merely for amusement, or to kill 
timo. The great majority of men and women 
know so imperfectly how to do the little everj^- 
day duties of life, the aggregate of which makes 
up the sum of human happiness, that they go 
stumbling and blundering through the world, 
hoping that somehow, somewhere in the far-off 
future, they will come up with and enjoy the good 
time, which through ignorance and laziness they 
fail to grasp and make for themselves here." 

"Ma," interrupted Alice, "you accused me of 
being unorthodox when I told you that Gerald's 
musings were such fancies as I frequently indulged 
in myself, and were not 'wild ravings' as you 
termed them. It seems to me you are stepping 
off the orthodox platform when you condemn 
people for hoping and expecting to have a good 



LITTLE THINGS. 203 

time prepared for them by some unseen power 
hereafter, when they are too stupid or lazy to 
make it for themselves here, where they have the 
materials for so doing lying all about them." 

"Alice," I interposed, "you and your mother 
seem to me to differ about non-essentials only. 
You both admit that your views of life have 
changed within the past few months ; and you 
both agree that an idle, selfish, aimless life is the 
lowest possible form of human existence. It is 
very evident, therefore, that you have both changed 
positions : and if orthodoxy means remaining sta- 
tionary, — always of the same belief, — it must be 
conceded that both of you are less orthodox than 
you were a few months ago. People who use 
their eyes and brains learn to see and do things 
differently, and of course to think differently about 
them, nearly every day. And until they do use 
these organs, it is folly to expect much progress 
or improvement to be made in the world. The 
great majority of people, as you say, do not know 
how to do the little every-day duties of life that 
lie all about them. Why do they not? Is it 
from ignorance, stupidity, or laziness? It seems 
scarcely credible that men and women with ordi- 
nary sense can go through the world without 
noticing the thousands of little things that are 
component parts of their every-day life. It is 
hard to believe that a girl could grow up in a 



204 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

house where three meals are prepared every day, 
and when she arrives at womanhood have no 
knowledge of how to prepare a breakfast, dinner, 
or supper. Yet I presume each of us is person- 
ally acquainted with fifty young women who do not 
know how to broil a beefsteak, or bake a potato ; 
and haven't the faintest idea of the first principles 
of bread-making. It is a burning shame to our 
sex that so many of us are content to grow up thus 
ignorant, and no wonder women have not obtained 
the ballot. But while men sneer at us, and with 
justice too, for such shiftlessness and inefiicien*cy, 
they are, in respect to using their eyes and brains, 
not one whit better than women. I know scores 
of great, hulking fellows who have warmed them- 
selves by coal fires all their lives, and yet can't 
kindle a coal fire in a grate or stove ; or can't, 
wdienit is kindled, keep it burning two consecutive 
days. It is the rule, and not the exception, to 
forget and neglect life's every-day duties. The 
world sufiers more from heedlessness than from 
criminality; and we wrong ourselves and others 
as much by w^ant of thought as by want of heart. 
We are continually worrying and annoying our- 
selves and all who are intimately associated with 
us by neglecting, or forgetting to do, 'our every- 
day duties. Our eyes and brains were given us 
for a beneficent purpose ; but most of us fail to 
discover their use, or to use them to much practi- 



LITTLE THINGS. 205 

cal advantage. A great portion of life is wasted, 
and much vital force consumed, in correcting the 
evil results of ignorance, negligence, and forget- 
fulness ; or in doing labor that could be avoided 
by a moderate use of common-sense. Why should 
any housewife sufier her fires to go out every few 
days in midwinter through carelessness, and thus 
endanger the health of some member of the family, 
as well as waste the time of some one in rebuilding: 
them? Or, why should she induce dyspepsia, dis- 
comfort, and general disgust in the household, by 
making bad liread, bad butter, or bad food of any 
kind, when she could have the best of everything 
by a little care and attention? Or why should 
men and w^omen w^ho have homes, permit things 
in and about them to get out of order and remain 
so for weeks and months, to the almost hourly 
annoyance and discomfort of every one in the 
family ? Go among the homes all over our land, 
and in a majority of them you Avill find the occu- 
pants suffering discomfort and inconvenience from 
a dozen triflino: thino-s that they do not seem to 
observe, or are too stupid and inefiicient to 
remedy. For instance, a door sags on account of 
a loose screw in one. of its hinges, and causes extra 
labor every time it is opened or closed ; or, its 
hinges squeak for need of a few drops of oil, and 
disturb every one in the house a dozen times a 
day ; or a ^.vindow-shutter bangs and flaps for want . 



206 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

of a fastening, till it eventnallj tumbles off and is 
broken ; or a pump gets out of order, and, for want 
of a slight repair, has to be labored with every time 
a bucket of water is needed. And so I could go 
on and on, and mention a thousand similar things 
that any one of thought and observation can see 
almost daily, and on every one of which extra 
labor and strength are wasted, week after week, 
and month after month, when a few moments' 
thoughtful, intelligent effort would put any one of 
them in perfect condition. Yet people endure 
such extra labor and discomfort without seeming 
to realize that they can avoid them by removing 
the cause. Through all the various departments 
of society, the disposition to forget, neglect, over- 
look, or remain ignorant how to do minor things, 
as they are termed, is so apparent that it is rather 
difficult to oret a correct idea of what the average 
man and woman conceive to be the chief end of 
existence. I am old-fashioned enough to think 
that people who endeavor to escape the so-called 
drudgeries of life, by shirking and neglecting its 
ever-present duties and responsibilities, soon be- 
come incapable of appreciating and enjoying its 
purest delights and satisfactions, and fritter away 
their time, vainly searching for a sphere in which 
they can labor to the best advantage ; or spend it, 
avariciously striving to get up ^ a corner' on the 
fruits of the future, and monopolize the whole 



LITTLE THINGS. 207 

stock of happiness supposed to be garnered up in 
the storehouse of the 'good time coming.'" 

"Kate, it seems to me you are right, in the 
main," said Emeline. "But you wouldn't have 
people give too much time to little things, would 
you ? " 

"Too much time ! Why, Emeline, the more I 
think upon this subject, the more I am impressed 
with its magnitude and importance. What do 
people mean Avhen they talk of being so engrossed 
with great things that they forget, or neglect, 
little ones? Great and small are but relative 
terms ; and great things are simply the aggregate 
of many small ones. Who can determine where 
the dividing line between big and little should be 
drawn ; or exactly how many little things are re- 
quired in the composition of one big thing? Is 
the size of things, their importance or unimpor- 
tance, their bigness or littleness, accurately com- 
puted by the amount of time, labor, care, strength, 
or intellect bestowed upon them ; or by the effect 
they produce upon the world ? Or is it carelessly 
measured by an imaginary standard for whose cor- 
rectness no one is responsible? Are the great 
things of life those that give society at large 
the greatest amount of happiness ; or those that 
yield a few persons the greatest amount of money ? 
Does the surgeon who performs a dangerous 
operation on a patient do a great thing, and the 



208 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

nurse who faithfully watches and ministers to that 
patient do a small thing? Does the preacher who 
delivers a learned doctrinal discourse do a great 
thing, and the layman who, by a fcAv kind words, 
encourages some weak or wayward brother or 
sister to live a purer and better life, do a little 
thing? Does the lawyer who, for a heavy fee, 
defends and acquits a criminal, do a great thing, 
and the ^peace-maker,' who, without pay, protects 
the property, or saves the life of a neighbor, do a 
little thing ? Does the stock-jobber who amasses 
a million in a month by obtaining control of a 
corporation, and by watering or skilfully manipu- 
lating its stock, do a big thing, and the mechanic 
who toils faithfully a lifetime, and earns only his 
daily bread, do a little thing? Does the specu- 
lator who buys up the products of a thousand 
farms or workshops, and, by thus controlling the 
market, makes a fortune in a week, do a big 
thing ; while the owners of those farms and work- 
shops, who toiled diligently for months, and ob- 
tained but small gains, did little things? Does 
the man of wealth who buys a tract of land for a 
few thousand dollars, and holds it unimproved till 
it increases in value to millions, do a bis: thins:; 
and do the thousands of men of humble means, 
who buy of him at the increased price,, and im- 
prove and beautify their i:)urchases w^ith pleasant 
homes, do little things ? Who shall say that the 



LITTLE THINGS. 209 

woman who remains quietly at home, doing daily, 
and with systematic neatness, the housewifely 
duties that render all within her influence con- 
tented and happy, is not teaching her sister women 
as wisely, and doing as much for the world's moral, 
social, and political advancement, as the one who 
travels from the Atlantic to the Pacific, eloquently 
l)leading the right of her sex to larger liberty or 
wider privileges? Or, which one of us is able to 
decide that a little poem, wrought out in obscurity, 
and for which its author received a few dollars 
only, has not effected a greater good in the world 
than the gigantic enterprise, inaugurated with 
ostentatious display and applause, that has put 
millions in the pocket of its projector? 

"If, then, we accept the principle that it is the 
duty of every man and woman to be engaged in 
work that is useful in some way to the world, why 
is it not as well to make beds, sweep rooms, and 
cook dinners, as it is to plough fields, build houses, 
and buy and sell corn and cotton ? And when a 
woman's duty lies in the way of the former, rather 
than of the latter occuioations, why should it be 
distasteful to her to acquaint herself with all the 
details of housekeeping? Or, why should she 
consider it drudgery to spend her time in doing, 
in the most perfect manner, those little household 
economies that add so much to the comfort and 
happiness of life ? 



210 COOKINa AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 

"To teach their children self-re stramt, — the 
control of their appetites and passions, — should 
be a iDaramount consideration with all parents ; 
for people who simply live to eat, or, as the poet 
puts it, — 

* who creep 
Into the world to eat and sleep, 
And know no reason why they're born 
But merely to consume the corn, 
Devour the cattle, fowl, and fish, 
And leave behind an empty dish,' — 

are vagabonds and drones, who steal and consume 
the substance of those who labor and produce. 
Nevertheless, we must all eat to live ; and the 
food we eat should be prepared in the best man- 
ner. Men and women are the most perfect crea- 
tions of the Maker of the universe, and are de- 
signed for the performance of labor of the highest 
order : but unless the conditions of their existence 
are complied with, and the materials that are 
required to keep them in working order are pre- 
pared with skilfulness and care, it is impossible 
for them to do the best work and lead the truest 
lives. 

"The sum of the whole matter, then, is this: 
That the great things of life' are composed of, and 
dependent on, its little things ; and the more care 
and attention that are bestowed upon necessary 
little things, the more successful will be the en- 
deavor, and the greater the result, of all human 
effort." 



LITTLE THINGS. 211 

"Cousin Kate," said Alice, "as you commenced 
your discourse without a text, you might appro- 
priately terminate it with one. For instance, 

' Little drops of water, 
Little grains of sand, 
Make the miglity ocean 
And the pleasant land.* 

And since you appear to be able to preach almost 
as well as you can cook, you might, in case you 
relinquish your idea of publishing a cook-book, 
favor the world with a volume of sermons. But, 
jesting aside, I think I have learned more this 
summer than ever before in the same length of 
time ; and I am sure I have been more contented 
and happy." 

"Alice, you express my sentiments, also," said 
Emeline. "Therefore, if my novel should remain 
forever unfinished, and Cousin Kate's cook-book 
never be written — even should our expectations 
fail to be realized in the Home-School — still the 
lives of us three will be richer and sweeter, for 
having spent our summer at Maplewood, although 
much of our time has been spent in Cooking and 
Castle-Building." 



II5"DEX. 





Page 




Page 


Yeast, .... 


. 16 


Buckwheat cakes. 


. 74 


Bread 


. 19 


Buckwheat cakes. No. 2, 


. 75 


Graham bread, . 


. 31 


Corn dodgers, 


. 77 


Rolls, .... 


. 32 


Corn muffins. 


. 78 


Egg rolls, . 


. 34 


Corn griddle-cakes, 


. 79 


Cream biscuit, 


. 38 


Corn slappers. 


. 79 


Strawberry shortcake, . 


. 40 


Cape May bread, . 


. SO 


Maryland biscuit, 


. 41 


Coffee, .... 


. 83 


Pickcd-up codfish, 


. 44 


Black tea, . 


. 91 


Oatmeal mush, . 


44 


Green tea, . 


. 92 


Baked potatoes, . 


44 


Toast 


. 93 


To boil milk. 


47 


Green pease, . 


. 95 


Fried chicken, . 


50 


Asparagus, . 


. 96 


Fried fish, . 


. 51 


String beans, 


. 96 


Graham gems, . 


52 


Lima beans, . 


. 96 


Fine flour gems, . 


52 


Stewed beans. 


. 97 


Graham cakes, . 


52 


Baked beans. 


. 97 


Hasty pudding, . 


54 


Boston baked beans, . 


. 97 


Cracked wheat, . 


54 


Stewed corn, 


. 99 


Hominy grits, 


55 


Corn oysters. 


99 


Stewed chicken, . 


56 


Boiled potatoes, . 


100 


Stewed chicken with mush- 




Mashed potatoes, . 


. 101 


rooms. 


57 


Fried potatoes. 


102 


Stewed beef, . 


57 


Stewed potatoes, . 


102 


Stewed veal, . 


,57 


Browned potatoes. 


102 


Bread cakes. 


70 


Soup, .... 


104 


Rice cakes, . . . . 


71 


Broth, .... 


107 


Waffles, 


71 


Roast lambj . . . . 


107 


Waffles, No. 2, . . . 


72 


Roast veal, . . . . 


108 


Waffles, No. 3, . . . 


72 


Roast beef, . . . . 


108 


Flannel cakes, 


73 


Boiled meats. 


109 


:Muffiiis, . . . . 


73 


Boiled fowls. 


109 



[218J 



^iX-i 


X£SU 

Page 


tUJ\., 


Page 


Boiled ham, . 


109 


Applesauce, 


154 


Boiled onions, 


111 


Tapioca pudding, . 


155 


Boiled beets, 


111 


Tapioca pudding, No. 2, . 


155 


Boiled cabbage, . 


111 


Serving berries, . 


157 


Boiled turnips, . 


111 


Eggplant, . . . . 


165 


Boiled dandelion. 


111 


Fried tomatoes, . 


167 


Boiled spinach, . 


111 


Fried oysters, 


168 


Beef and tomato sauce, 


111 


Scalloped oysters, 


170 


Rice pudding. 


113 


Fish-balls, . 


172 


Boiled rice, . 


116 


Fresh-fish balls, . 


173 


Boiled rice, No. 2, 


116 


Hash, .... 


173 


Broiled steak, 


123 


Hashed-meat cakes, . 


174 


Broiled chops, 


124 


Scrapple, 


174 


Fried mutton chops, . 


124 


Hashed potato, . 


175 


Broiled lamb chops, . 


125 


Chicken croquettes, 


175 


Broiled chicken, . 


126 


Tomato stew, 


176 


Broiled quail, 


127 


Loaf cake, . 


190 


Jloast wild duck, . 


128 


Steamed fruit pudding, 


192 


Stewed terrapin, . 


129 


Buns, .... 


192 


Omelet, .... 


130 


Doughnuts, . 


193 


Salad dressing, . 


135 


Raised doughnuts, 


194 


Chicken salad, 


136 


Delicate cake, 


. 194 


Salad dressing, No. 2, . 


136 


Sponge cake, . . •:_ 


. 195 


Frizzled beef. 


137 


Cold slaw, ... 


196 


Berry mush, . 


. 144 


Pickled cabbage, . 


196 


Currant jam, 


144 


Mild tomato sauce, 


. 198 


Currant jelly, 


. 145 


Green tomato pickle, . 


. 198 


Pastry, .... 


149 


Cucumber catsup, 


. 198 


Apple pie, . 


. 149 


Cucumber pickle, 


. 199 


Linen pie. 


. 151 


Spiced peaches, . 


. 200 


Baked apples, 


. 153 


Spiced damsons, . 


. 201 


Baked apples, No. 2, . 


. 154 







CLASSIFIED INDEX. 



BREAKFAST DISHES. 






Page 




Page 


Beef, frizzled, . 


137 


Fish, fried, 


51 


Cakes, bread, . 


70 


Gems, Graham, 


52 


" buckwheat, 


74 


" fine flour, 


52 


" " No. 2, 


75 


Grits, hominy, 


55 


" corn, . 


76 


Hash, . . . . 


173 


" flannel. 


73. 


Hasty pudding. 


54 


" hashed meat, 


174 


Mush, oatmeal, 


44 


" rice, . 


71 


Omelet with parsley, . 


131 


Chicken, broiled, . 


126 


Oysters, corn, . 


99 


" fried, 


50 


Potatoes, baked, . 


44 


" croquettes, 


175 


" fried. 


102 


Chops, broiled lamb, . 


125 


" hashed, . 


175 


" *' mutton,. 


125 


stewed, . 


102 


" fried 


124 


Scrapple, 


174 


Cracked wheat. 


54 


Slappers, corn. 


79 


Dodgers, corn. 


77 


Stew, tomato, . 


176 


Egg-plant, fried, . 


165 


Wafaes, . . . . 


71 


Fish-baUs, 


172 


" No. 2,. 


72 


" of fresh fish, . 


173 


" No. 3, . 


72 


DINNER 


DISHES. 






Page 




Page 


Asparagus, 


96 


Cabbage, boiled, . 


111 


Beans, baked, . 


97 


Chicken, plain stewed 


56 


" Boston baked, . 


97 


" stewed with 




" lima, . 


96 


mushrooms. 


57 


" stowed, 


97 


Dandelions, boiled. 


111 


" string, . 


96 


Duck, wild, roasted, 


128 


Beef, boiled with toma- 




Fowls, boiled. 


109 


to sauce, . 


HI 


Ham, boiled, . 


109 


" roasted, 


108 


Lamb, roasted, 


107 


" stewed. 


57 


Onions, . 


111 


Broth 


107 


Oysters, scalloped, . 


. 170 



[216] 



216 



CLASSIFIED INDEX. 





Page 




Page 


Pease, green, . 


95 


Spinach, . 


. Ill 


Potatoes, boiled, . 


100 


Terrapin, stewed, . 


. 129 


" browued, 


102 


Tomatoes, fried. 


. 167 


•' mashed, . 


101 


Turnips, boiled. 


. Ill 


Eice, 


116 


Veal, roasted, . 


. 108 


" No. 2, . 


116 


" stewed, . 


. 57 


Soup, 


104 






RELISHES AKD PICKLES. 






Page 




Page 


Cabbage, pickled, . 


196 


Peaches, spiced. 


. 200 


Catsup, cucumber, 


198 


Salad dressing. 


. 135 


Cold slaw, 


196 


" No. 2, . 136 


Damsons, spiced, . 


201 


Tomatoes, pickled green, 198 


Mild tomato sauce, 


198 






DESS 


ERTS. 






Page 




Page 


Coffee, . 


86 


Pudding, steamed fruit, 192 


" No. 2, . 


88 


" tapioca, 


. 155 


Mush, fruit, . 


144 


" " N 


0. 2, 155 


Pastry, . 


149 


Shortcake, strawberry,. 40 


Pies, 


146 


Tea, black, . 


. . 91 


Pie, apple. 


149 


" green, . 


. . 92 


Pudding, rice, 


113 






TE 


[A D 


ISHES. 






Page 




Page 


Apples, . 


. 141 


Doughnuts, No. 2, 


. 194 


Berries, . 


. 143 


Jam, currant, . 


. 144 


" serving. 


. 157 


Jelly, " 


. 145 


Biscuit, cream, 


. 38 


Muffins, corn, . 


. 78 


" Maryland, . 


. 41 


" wheat. 


. . 73 


Bread, Cape May corn. 


. 80 


Oysters, fried. 


. 168 


Buns, . . . 


. 192 


Quail, broiled. 


. 127 


Cake, delicate, 


. 194 


Rolls, plain, . 


. 32 


" loaf, . 


. 190 


" with egg, 


. 34 


" sponge, . 


. 195 


Salad, chicken. 


. 136 


Doughnuts, . 


. 193 


Toast, 


. 93 



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